


Centered

by ABrighterDarkness



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Affection, Awesome Sam Wilson, Awesome Sarah Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Captain America Sam Wilson, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Steve Rogers, M/M, Mentors, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: His attention was drawn from the chaos by shouting, and he quickly scanned the vicinity for the source.  It wasn’t the fearful, panicked screams and shouts that had plagued the area just a half hour prior.“You get your goddamn hands off of him,” the voice snarled.  Definitely male, considering the timber. Irate, given the tone. “Who the hell do you think you are? Putting your hands on a kid like that?”Sam zeroed in on the location of the shouting, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.  The man was snarling up into the face of another that was at least twice his size, with two boys -- Sam estimated them at a glance around fifteen or sixteen at most -- pushed safely behind him, yet towering over him.  The boys and the small blonde man were all dirty and battered--they obviously hadn’t managed to escape the destruction that the Avengers’ battle had caused. The thought made Sam wince with guilt.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so incredibly excited (and more than a tiny bit nervous) to share this with you!
> 
> I started working on this fic back in May with the vague idea that it _might_ reach 10-15k tops. It took on a life of its own and here we are three months later presenting a fic that's 16 chapters and over 42k. It is complete with only the final chapters undergoing beta-maintenance and I will be posting new chapters every Friday.
> 
> I have had a lot of help getting this one into shape. Absolutely huge thank yous to indigomountain for all the immense help with brainstorming, especially early on in the writing process, to swisstea and theOtherWinterSoldier for cheering me on and giving outstanding feedback for improvement, and to KieranIsHiding for being awesome betaing this fic! I'm nearly positive that this would still be sitting in the WiP file for a long time to come without your help!
> 
> Hope that you enjoy it!!

The dust finally began to settle when Sam landed with a bitten-back grunt, the wings on his back immediately collapsing back into the pack. Forcing down the exhausted sigh that wanted to escape, Sam absently swung the shield around until he felt it attach to the embedded magnets that Stark had built into the pack, and paused for a brief moment to take in the scene around him.

They had won the fight with relative ease, now that the Avengers were better acclimated to working as a team. Sam couldn’t say that it had been an _easy_ _battle,_ but fighting together had come a long way from their first go against the Chitauri and consequently Sam’s first battle with the iconic shield in hand. And that was great. It was. But as he looked around at the destruction and devastation that their fight had caused to the city… well, that filled him with a different sort of weary exhaustion all together. 

His attention was drawn from the chaos by shouting, and he quickly scanned the vicinity for the source. It wasn’t the fearful, panicked screams and shouts that had plagued the area just a half hour prior. 

“You get your goddamn hands off of him,” the voice snarled. Definitely male, considering the timber. Irate, given the tone. “Who the hell do you think you are? Putting your hands on a kid like that?”

Sam zeroed in on the location of the shouting, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. The man was snarling up into the face of another that was at least twice his size, with two boys -- Sam estimated them at a glance around fifteen or sixteen at most -- pushed safely behind him, yet towering over him. The boys and the small blonde man were all dirty and battered--they obviously hadn’t managed to escape the destruction that the Avengers’ battle had caused. The thought made Sam wince with guilt.

Sam wouldn’t have guessed that the radiating fury could belong to such a small stature, but he knew that was on him for assuming. The larger man visibly tensed as though he was going to lash out physically, and Sam knew he needed to intervene before the whole thing spiraled.

Surprisingly, Natasha got there first; he hadn’t even seen her approach. The larger man’s arm was pinned to his back the same moment that he drew back as though he were going to take a swing. Sam couldn’t help but notice the narrow-eyed, daring expression on the small man’s face before Natasha made herself known, as though he was just waiting for the big man to take a swing. _Do it, go ahead and see what happens,_ is what that expression said. Sam knew that one; knew it intimately. 

Natasha leaned against the large man’s back and hissed something into his ear before shoving him away in the opposite direction of the small man and the boys. It was interesting to see someone of similar age that was tinier than Natasha, but as she closed the distance between them, it was obvious that she had at least a few inches on the man. 

“Steve, what are you doing?” she asked with a surprisingly fond tone. Sam knew that he should probably move on now, there was plenty of work to be done still in the aftermath of the battle. Instead, he found himself moving quietly toward the row of damaged shops and leaning against the wall, curiously listening to see what more he could learn while pointedly ignoring why he was so interested.

‘Steve’s’ attention seemed to still be fully on the man who had quickly made himself scarce after being pinned by the Black Widow. He slowly dragged his attention back to Natasha, and his eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline as he took her in, only to furrow in concern a moment later. Sam found it surreal to watch Natasha Romanov allow the man to reach up and cup her face, tilting her head this way and that, to examine the nasty-looking head wound that she had gotten from falling debris.

“You okay?” he asked, though Sam could only just catch the soft-spoken words.

“I’ll survive,” Natasha smirked.

“I would say so,” Steve said with a tone that seemed to be insistently pointed.

“Not the time, Rogers,” Natasha chided, pulling from his careful grip and shifting easily around him to check on the boys. “You guys okay?”

“Natalie,” Steve huffed impatiently. _Natalie?_

“Steve,” Natasha said blandly as she scanned the two teenagers for injuries. “You need to get them back to the group. Where are the rest of your kids, anyway?”

“Left them with Buck when I realized these two were missing,” Steve answered with a shrug.

“Should have sent James,” Natasha quipped, smirking when Steve shot her a dark glare.

“I could’ve handled him, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Natasha agreed easily. “I was already here, though. Clint pointed you guys out, thought I’d pop in and see what I could do.”

“You apparently have better things to be doing right now,” Steve said pointedly. “I’ve got them. Go do your thing, Nat.”

“You sure?”

“Go,” Steve said easily, if not fondly. “Get that head of yours looked at.”

“Worry about your own head, Rogers, it keeps getting you into trouble,” Natasha shot back before leaving the trio to make their way back to wherever the rest of their group was located. She moved easily toward where the rest of their team was gathering, only to pause mid step and look directly at him. “Come on, Wilson. That’s not even sneaky.”

“Wasn’t aiming for sneaky,” Sam said with a shrug, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside her. “Saw the start, and wanted to make sure the asshole didn’t come back.”

“I just heard his foul mouth and figured I’d do damage control,” Natasha said with a small laugh. “Have you been in contact with the police yet?”

“No,” Sam winced. “I just landed when the show started.” He wanted to ask more, but as they drew nearer to the rest of the team, Sam knew it was time to step back into his role. 

“Yeah, Steve’s good for that,” Natasha said idly, and then her facade was affixed back onto her face as well. The fondness for the man named Steve was rehidden beneath the multitude of deeply rooted masks that made the Black Widow a deadly opponent in the field.

It was several days later before Sam was able to find the time to talk to Natasha again without an unwanted audience to the discussion. As it was, the opportunity to bring it up only arose thanks to a friendly sparring match. He knew that he probably shouldn’t -- even asking Natasha casual questions tended to get the asker more than they bargained for. But he knew his curiosity wasn’t going to let him go until he at least had something to go on. 

“The little guy that looked like he was thinkin’ about going to blows with that asshole.” Sam said through a grunt as he blocked her rapid succession of alternating blows.

“Steve?” Natasha said without inflection. “Don’t let him hear you call him that. But I can promise you that he wasn’t just thinking about it. What about him?”

“He and the boys were good?” Sam asked curiously. “They all looked a little roughed up.”

“Yeah,” Natasha said with an idle shrug. “Steve’s good with them. He had it under control.”

“How do you know him?” he asked. “Is that a thing I’m allowed to ask?” Sam knew that the woman had very particular boundaries, and he had made a point to avoid pressing them. He wondered if this would be one of those lines.

Apparently not, though, considering that she didn’t pause a beat before answering easily.

Natasha smirked. “He works for one of the youth centers in Brooklyn. Does those kids a lot of good, that’s where I met him a couple of years ago.”

“You volunteer there?”

She hummed in agreement, “I teach the kids self-defense. Help out when it’s needed.”

“Do their parents know that they’re being taught self-defense by the Black Widow?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Probably not,” Natasha said dismissively. “Steve didn’t know, until the other day.”

“Makes sense,” Sam conceded. “What does he teach?”

“Art, during regular hours,” Natasha said, easily dodging his strikes. “He puts a lot of time in, though. He and James double up on boxing and sparring, too. He mentors a lot of them. Pretty sure that working at the Center and rooming with James is his definition of a social life.”

“Art and boxing?” Sam said, brows shooting up in surprise. His mind hovered for a moment on the roommate, but then he forcefully pushed away the thought before it could take hold.

“Don’t let his size fool you,” Natasha chided, immediately launching forward, and Sam suddenly found himself wrenched between her thighs and flipped around as though he was a sack of potatoes. He landed with a breathless groan and Natasha smirked. “The man can hold his own against me. I should know, considering I helped teach him.”

Sam slowly caught his breath, “Not judging. Just surprised, is all.”

“What’s your sudden interest in Steve anyway?” Natasha asked, shifting until she was seated on the mats, legs stretched out in front of her and braced against her hands. She didn’t give him time to formulate an answer though, her head tilting and eyes narrowing speculatively. Sam winced, having long since learned that particular expression.

“You should come by the center with me,” Natasha said lightly. “The kids would love it. I might even throw in an introduction.”

Sam considered the offer. He wasn’t generally fond of the attention that the Captain America mantle had brought him. Kids, though, that was a whole different ball game. He found that he liked that he could be someone they could look up to. Out of all of the publicity events they had been required to attend, Sam had always been most grateful and humbled when he got that particular privilege.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“This afternoon I teach the self-defense classes,” Natasha commented. “James and Steve generally run sparring around the same time.”

Sam pushed up from the mat until he was sitting upright. He considered the offer for a moment, and then grinned, “Think I should bring the shield?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha smirked. “Are you going to let them touch it?”

* * *

When they entered the open gymnasium-type room of the Center, Sam made a point to stay near the walls. The last thing that he really wanted to do was to disrupt the routine of these kids' lessons, or undermine the focus that the Instructors would have worked hard to earn. Instead, he watched, his attention bouncing between Natasha’s precise lessons and the more chaotic sparring match. Currently, a larger dark-haired man was engaging the kids -- Sam assumed that was the ‘James’ that Natasha had mentioned -- while Steve called out directions and suggestions from the edge of the marked area.

Eventually, Natasha’s lessons merged seemingly seamlessly with the sparring, when the girls were gamely offered to test their lessons against the mixture of boys and girls that had gravitated instead to the sparring mats. Sam left the shield in it’s oversized satchel leaning against the wall, and moved to the edge of the sparring mat out of curiosity. 

Sam huffed softly in amusement when one of the young boys ended up on the mats at his feet and looked up at him in surprise.

“Whoa,” the boy muttered. Sam internally winced at the unintended interruption, but before he could think further on it the kid was yelling. “Guys! Guys! Look! Captain America’s here!”

Sam shot Natasha an apologetic glance and reached down to offer the boy a hand up. He accepted it with the wide-eyed awe that Sam was nearly positive that he would never get used to seeing. “Just Sam today, little man.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur of excited kids clamoring for their fair share of attention, until a sharp whistle cut it short.

“Alright, guys, he’s still gotta breathe like the rest of us,” Steve chided gently. “I’m sure Sam’s gonna be sticking around for a bit longer, so let’s let the man have some room, yeah?”

“Yeah, Ms. Nat invited me to tag along for the afternoon,” Sam grinned. “Don’t you let me get you in trouble.”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, because Steve shot him--and then Nat--an odd glare before turning his attention back to the group of kids. “Go ‘head and settle. Maybe Sam and ‘Ms. Nat’ will be up for giving us a demo.”

Sam met Natasha’s eyes, and she smirked. It wasn’t her friendly smirk either, and Sam winced. “Come on, you don’t wanna see Cap get his butt kicked by Ms. Nat.”

“Natalie can’t beat you,” one boy frowned. He eyed Natasha hesitantly for a moment. “Right?”

“What do you say, Sam?” Natasha said with a slow smile. “Should we give these guys a show?”

Sam glanced over his shoulder to where his shield still rested against the wall. Well, if he was gonna give them a show, he might as well do it right. He looked back to Natasha with a smirk, head cocked to the side challengingly.

“Dunno, got any batons handy, _Natalie?”_

Natasha returned the smirk and looked to one of the older girls, who beamed and took off at a run to what looked to be a storeroom at the opposite end of the gym. Sam took that to as confirmation, and turned his own attention to the boy that he had helped back to his feet. “Hey man, you wanna go grab that bag for me?” Sam asked lightly.

The boy nodded--Sam really needed to learn some of these kids’ names--and jogged over, eyes widening when he picked it up. He looked back at Sam, wide-eyed.

“Is this what I think it is? Is this the shield?” 

“That it is,” Sam grinned. “Go ahead and take it out. Leave the bag there, if you want.” The boy’s excitement was palpable as he carried the shield back across the room and handed it carefully, almost delicately, to Sam as though he was afraid it would somehow shatter during the transfer. 

The boy’s eyes widened suddenly in surprise and Sam reacted instinctively, turning in place and raising the shield just in time to catch the dual swing of Nat’s batons with a loud c _lang._

“Whoa,” the kid said softly.

“Alright,” Steve called out. “Let’s give ’em room. You know the drill.” Natasha lowered the batons and settled into position, and Sam fell easily into his own stance. Sam grinned, and Natasha narrowed her eyes almost playfully. 

And then they were off.

Sam’s focus zeroed in on Natasha, her movements, and what few tells she allowed her body to telegraph. He could vaguely hear the cheers and shouts from the kids watching, but Sam knew better than to allow himself to get distracted when sparring with Natasha of all people. They didn’t go full speed or full strength, not like they would have done back at the tower. Even being just a friendly match, though, didn’t stop Natasha from doing her best to kick his ass.

He could admit that it was fun, and sparring with Natasha always taught him something a little bit more about his own fighting style. Sam wasn’t too proud to admit that he wasn’t quite up to par with someone who had the type of background that she had. But, he didn’t really have to be. They had their own strengths, their own weaknesses, and Sam had learned early on when the team was still new that those variations only helped them in the field. They would have been at a severe disadvantage over the years if all of them had the exact same patterns. 

That also meant, though, that while he might not exactly be considered on par with Natasha, he could sure as hell hold his own. Occasionally, he even managed to surprise her -- which, he could also admit, might easily be one of his favorite kinds of accomplishments.

About a half hour later, when they were both breathing just a little bit heavier, Natasha met his eye with a smirk and a tilt of her head, and Sam grinned and nodded. If they were going to wrap this up, they could make a bit of a show of it. Natasha darted toward him, and Sam timed his movements precisely, dropping low and bracing the shield as she lept, her feet planting briefly against its surface. Sam used her momentum to launch her backwards into one of her flawless backflips. When she landed back on her feet, Sam dropped the arm holding the shield to his side and grinned. At least he didn’t end up sprawled on the floor again like he had during the last round back at the tower.

Natasha gave one of her rare, genuine smiles, and stood beside him, arms crossed in front of her as the excited yelling and cheering around them came back into focus at a nearly deafening volume. It was just moments later that they were completely encircled, and Sam momentarily found himself feeling a little overwhelmed. Natasha shifted to the side slightly, her shoulder pressing lightly against his arm, and it was just enough to help resettle him -- another benefit of coming to trust those in your team, he supposed. He shot her a small, grateful look, and turned his attention back to the kids.

Sam took a moment to glance around as discreetly as he could while listening attentively to the questions and comments flying around him from the kids. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t see Steve anywhere in the mix. He knew that he shouldn’t really be quite as disappointed as he was, considering that he had yet to actually even meet the man. He pushed the wandering thought aside and locked his attention firmly back to the kids demanding it.

The shield, of course, made its rounds -- though Sam made sure that it wasn’t tossed around. He knew the sort of damage the vibranium was capable of, and really didn’t want to be responsible for breaking the Center or one of them getting hurt. 

He began to accompany Natasha to the Center more frequently after that. Initially, it was pure curiosity, with more than a little anticipation of finally getting a chance to catch the man that seemed to run the place. But then, the more time he spent with the kids, the more his focus changed. He hadn’t participated in sparring or the physical classes since the first day. His time was mostly spent hanging out with them and helping with homework when he could. They really were great kids, and it was amazing that this place was an option for them. 

It didn’t take long for every one of them to dig out their own little corner of his heart. Amelia was the oldest there, having just turned 18 a few months prior. From everything Sam had managed to understand, she had been part of the reason why Steve had started the Center when he had. And she had started there as one of the youngest at only twelve, and in need of a safe place when she had nowhere else to go. She hadn’t finished school, and she never spoke of parents or guardians.

Sam hadn’t pressed for answers -- it wasn’t his story to know if she didn’t choose to share it, but he got the impression that this place was even more of a home to her than it was even to Steve. It had taken a while longer for her to warm up to him than most of the kids, but then again, Amelia was even still noticeably less comfortable around James than she was Steve or the younger boys. Sam noticed that the man would politely excuse himself before he could be the last person in the room with her, and Sam followed that particular lead out of respect for the girl. The last thing he wanted for any of those kids was to have his presence take away their safe place. 

Though she had eventually asked him for sporadic help with her studies to be able to obtain her GED. Sam didn’t think he’d have had the heart to turn down the anxiously-made request, even if he had no idea what any of the material was meant to be. He would have made a point to learn every bit of it himself before he would have willingly turned her away. 

He was probably more excited than they were, when first Joshua and Katie, followed by a curious Ryan, asked for his input on colleges and universities. Sam could admit he wasn’t up-to-date on all of the admissions and programs available to potential incoming students, but he eagerly helped them with the research -- and eventually the applications -- for both schools and scholarships. Though, Sam was fairly certain that Ryan was going to take the military route, given the regular discussions he had with James.

Whichever route he went, the kid was going places.

The day that Oliver stumbled into the Center in a panic, carefully cradling his bundled sweatshirt in his arms, was one Sam would carry with him for a while, he knew. Both due to Steve’s poorly-concealed, resigned horror at the sudden presence of a cat at the center, and the careful way that Steve, Natasha and Oliver gently cared for the rain-soaked, too-small tabby kitten that Olivia and Oliver had found and Oliver had insisted on bringing with them. It was only later, seeing Steve’s red, puffy eyes and miserable expression, that Sam understood the initial resigned horror. 

Allergies. Poor guy.

Steve still let the kids keep the cat at the Center, despite his own discomfort. He had even gone to the local pet store the same day and bought the necessities while Natasha had taken the tiny thing to the vet. That had been Sam’s first true introduction to how much they cared about the kids and their happiness.

Jamie, whose parents push college when she reaches the age but found her stride in anything with a motor. James cobbled together a small workshop for her to work and learn the trade. She was often dragging Aaron to help, even though they’re all well aware that she didn’t really need it. Sam pitched in with James a couple of times to get her better tools to work with, and more things to take apart and put back together. 

Hannah, the charmingly funny Georgia girl trying to figure out New York. Thankfully, the kids get along well enough that they seem all-too-willing to help her with the learning curve. 

Joey, with his witty, jokester attitude and knack for finding fights, but always obediently sat and let Natasha and Steve patch him up. It was several weeks into coming to the Center that Sam had learned that Joey was actually the reason Natasha had found the Center and Steve. She had come across the scrappy little thirteen-year-old in a tussle with a couple older boys. When she had offered to escort him home, Joey had led her to the Center instead, where Steve--James had apparently been deployed at the time--had patched him up while all but interrogating _Natalie_ about what had happened. Joey asked her to come back. And she had been ever since.

Sam considered quiet Simon, who’s probably smarter than the majority of the whole Center put together considering his young age, but seemingly always willing to jump in and help others with their homework when asked. 

Drew, their techy kid that could probably give Simon a run for his money in his specific field of interest; Sam was curious what Tony would make of the kid. 

And Chloe, so easily distracted and a bit of a daydreamer, but full of wit and snark when engaged. 

Shaina, clumsy, clumsy girl, and probably the most outgoing and friendliest of the entire Center. 

And Nathan, a bit of a loner that seemed to prefer engaging in discussion with James, Steve, Nat, and later Sam, instead of the other kids his own age. 

They all wormed their way in. If Sam was honest, so had Steve and James, in their own way. Natasha had been there already, but the newer additions were more than welcome, as far as he was concerned. It was fascinating to somehow find his place among the odd group. Sam wasn’t at all surprised when his once-in-awhile visits became weekly, and then a regular twice-a-week thing. It could become a daily thing, if he wasn’t careful. He definitely didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

Sam couldn’t deny, though, that the day he realized that “Cap’s here!” had turned into a more comfortable and casual “Hi Sam!” would probably always rank high on his list of bests.

Natasha dropped gracefully into the chair beside him and leaned against his shoulder one late afternoon, a couple months in. “So, what do you think?” she asked curiously.

“It’s an amazing place,” Sam smiled. “Doing some outstanding things for these kids. Thank you. For inviting me along.”

“I had a feeling they’d wear you down and make themselves at home,” she smiled. “Don’t feel bad, they got to me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam shrugged off the thought and set the bag of purchases on the bench, digging around under it until his fingers found the stiff, durable material that he was looking for. He tugged the duffle bag that he had taken to keeping stashed on the jet for times exactly like this out and set it onto the bench, and began the process of transferring the items from the cheap plastic shopping bag to the duffle.
> 
> “Sam, what are you doing?” Natasha asked in obvious amusement, leaning against the wall of the jet.
> 
> “What’s it look like I’m doing, Nat?” he asked without looking up from his task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TGIF! Another Friday and chapter two :)
> 
> I feel like I ought to give a heads up here. This fic is a slow-burn SamSteve relationship, they do get there by the end but don't be surprised if it takes some time to reach that point. But, all things considered, I felt that was the most natural way to bring these guys together without trying to _make_ it happen. I do hope that you'll enjoy the journey to get there anyway :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you enjoy!

When the call came in that the Avengers’ assistance was needed in Arizona, Sam had to force down a groan. Not because he didn’t want to help, he did. There was a large part of him, though, that was more than a little disappointed that it came in on a day that he was supposed to be heading to the Center. It was a comfort to know that the kids knew who he was and what he did. They would understand that his responsibilities sometimes had to come first.

It was less than an hour from the time they received the call to the time that the jet landed just outside of Phoenix. They had intel that indicated an AIM splinter faction had set up shop and had begun canvasing the local city population for potential test subjects. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what the testing might consist of but considering that it was AIM, it was unlikely to be anything good. The team quickly set their eyes on the target. Sam and Tony took to the sky, and the rest scattered to their positions, testing comms as they went.

Thankfully, the Op was fairly straight forward, and it took little time to temporarily evacuate the nearby residential area and to neutralize the hostile forces. Admittedly, the mission was more entertaining than particularly challenging, if only because of the running commentary and gripes about the heat. Followed, of course, by Tony’s smug retorts about the comfortably controlled climate within the suit. It would have devolved from there--and probably  _ would _ once the Op was wrapped up and they were on their way back to New York-- if Sam hadn’t brought the focus back to the task at hand. 

After taking a final flyover to make sure that none of the targets had managed to slip away, Sam landed next to where Clint and Natasha were escorting the leader to the jet for transport back to SHIELD and watched the procession with a sigh. 

“Anyone going to need medical?” Sam asked across the commlink.

“Nope,” Tony answered. “Might need to patch some paint when I get back, but I’m even bruise free. I think.”

The rest of the team quickly echoed Tony’s response, albeit without the added details. As soon as he was sure that the assailant was safely contained and that his team was safe, Sam quickly took the opportunity to duck away. It wouldn’t take him long, he had gotten pretty good at slipping into the local cities and back out again without drawing too much attention to himself. 

He had made it back to the jet without arousing too much suspicion to his brief disappearance, though he really didn’t think any member of the team would have said a thing anyway. If he was careless enough to ditch out in the middle of an Op, or when there were still loose ends that needed his attention, then yeah, they wouldn’t hesitate to call him out on it. Same as he would have--and  _ had  _ done--with them. 

Sam shrugged off the thought and set the bag of purchases on the bench, digging around under it until his fingers found the stiff, durable material that he was looking for. He tugged the duffle bag that he had taken to keeping stashed on the jet for times exactly like this out and set it onto the bench, and began the process of transferring the items from the cheap plastic shopping bag to the duffle.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Natasha asked in obvious amusement, leaning against the wall of the jet.

“What’s it look like I’m doing, Nat?” he asked without looking up from his task.

“Looks like you went off-key post-op again,” she smirked knowingly. “Get your list all checked off?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, balling up the plastic bag and stuffing it into one corner of the duffle before carefully zipping the bag closed. “Yeah, I double checked, I should have something in there for everyone.”

“It’s a good thing you’re doing, you know?” She said pushing off of the wall and sitting beside the bag, eyeing it curiously. “They’re going to love it.”

“I hope so,” he smiled, staring down at the bag. He wasn’t sure why he had suddenly decided that he needed to pick up little gifts for the kids at the Center whenever Ops finished cleanly enough that he could afford to dip away. They were little things, magnets and keychains, knick-knacks, nothing especially impressive. Maybe in time he would know them a little bit better and would be able to be a little more personalized. But there was something about being outside of New York City after the discussion he had at the Center the few weeks before about some of them wanting to travel and places that they wanted to go, that pushed the urge so forcefully that Sam couldn’t ignore it. 

“Did you get anything for Steve?” She asked coyly.

Sam forced himself not to react to her knowing tone and shrugged. “James and Natalie, too.”

Natasha snorted in amusement, “I don’t think Natalie would be too upset to be left out.”

“That would just be poor manners,” Sam grinned. “Those kids learned how to be overprotective from the best. Far be it from me to leave out their favorite.”

“What’d you get him?” She pressed.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, Natalie,” Sam shrugged. 

It turned out that the gifts went over very, very well. With the kids at least. 

He and Nat went to the Center the following day, once the post-mission reports and paperwork had been finalized and submitted. Sam found it interesting that he had come to recognize the remains of the battle easing out of Natasha’s shoulders the closer they got. Not that he was judging, he knew the place had the same effect on him, it was just surreal that Natasha actually allowed such a tell to show. Did she realize that it showed? He assumed that she did, but if she hadn’t realized it, he wasn’t going to be the one to call her on it.

Sadie was the first to notice them, and her eyes zeroed in on each of them in turn, and then onto the duffle bag hanging off of Sam’s shoulder. “Sam and Nat are here!” she shouted loud enough to carry, and Sam had to fight down the urge to wince at the volume level. Before the words were entirely out of her mouth, she was bounding forward with the excitable energy that Sam had come to expect from the girl.

She hesitated for a moment, biting on her lip in an attempt to restrain her eagerness, eyeing the bag for a long moment before looking up at Sam with a bright grin, “Hi Sam.”

“Hi yourself,” Sam smiled, blindly reaching for the duffle’s zipper and opening the bag. “Go on, think you know the drill by now.”

Almost as soon as Sadie’s small hands began digging into the bag in search of the small package with her name printed on it, Sam and Natasha were surrounded. He wasn’t sure what it was about the little souvenirs that drew the excitement and eagerness from even the older teens, but he knew that he would keep dipping out post-op to buy them just to keep having the opportunity to witness it. 

Natasha carefully maneuvered out of the barely contained chaos to stand along the edge, arms crossed and lips quirked in an amused smirk. To them -- most of them, anyway -- she was just Natalie. Not Natasha Romanov aka Black Widow. Sam thought that maybe she preferred keeping that aspect of her life separate from this, and he could understand why she might choose that route. 

“Come on, guys, let the man through the door at least,” Steve’s voice interjected through the loud, excited chatter. “I know you’ve got better manners than that.”

“You’re going to lecture them on manners, Steve?” Natasha asked, her amused smirk turning teasing.

“Even my shitty manners don’t have me maulin’ the guy as soon as he steps through the door,” Steve retorted, cheeks tinting pink for some reason that Sam was admittedly too distracted to place. Though, he could also admit that at least some part of his distraction might be able to be attributed to the suggestion of mauling him at the door. He was keeping that particular thought to himself.

“Steve,” Olivia called, thankfully disrupting that particular train of thought. “Steve, Sam got something for you and Natalie and Bucky, too!”

Natasha was still eyeing Steve with an all too familiar look of patronizing amusement, which Steve seemed to be pointedly ignoring. Or attempting to, at least. “Thank you,” Steve said awkwardly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sam shrugged, “I wanted to.” And he did. 

It was… nice, to be able to bring back small little trinkets from the places he was required to go. It made the harshness of their missions and the reasons why they had to go to those destinations a little less wearing. Yes, there was some asshole trying to hurt people, or trying to get away with using alien weapons and technology against unsuspecting populations. But that wasn’t the sole basis of existence when he could turn a mission accomplished into an opportunity to bring some city or country’s natural attraction home to share. There were times when he had wondered if he couldn’t include a personal camera with his kit, for when the locations they visited were more scenic and beautiful than the villain du jour deserved. 

Sam wondered if that would be something of interest to them. A collection of pictures taken from various places around the world. If it would encourage the desire to travel and grow. Or give the more artsy of the group something to reference their art from, if they decided that was something that they wanted. The more he thought about it, the more the idea had merit. Something to bring up to Tony, maybe.

He carefully reached around Simon’s hands to dig out the three small packages, though larger than what the kids had been given, and passed them to Josh. “You want to take those over to Nat and Steve for me, please?”

Josh nodded and pushed his way through the group, staring at the packages for a moment before passing one to Nat and the other two to Steve. Sam carefully redirected his attention back to the kids checking out their little gifts, feeling decidedly awkward when Steve carefully examined his own. 

Steve cleared his throat and shot Sam a small smile in thanks, before addressing the teens.“Alright, you’ve got your things, let’s give ‘im some room.”

* * *

“Sam! Sam, look! I did it!” Sam blinked in surprise and took a half-step back before he could stop himself when a small packet of paper suddenly appeared in his face. He had only just walked through the doors when the kids at the table immediately noticed him, and Amelia launched forward.

“Whoa, whoa, what’d you do?” Sam accepted the packet, immediately catching sight of the list of scores printed in black ink along the right hand side of the page. “Oh, hell yes. Awesome job, Amelia! Knew you could do it!”

Amelia seemed to vibrate in place as he took the time to look over each of her listed scores for the tests she had taken for her GED course. Despite the amount of time that she had put in and the encouragement that Sam and the others had given, she had been undeniably nervous. Those nerves, it seemed, were entirely unnecessary. She hadn’t just passed, she had  _ excelled. _

“Amelia,” he grinned. “You really should be so proud of yourself right now. This is great.”

“Thank you!” She beamed brightly -- it was rare to see such a full, vibrant expression on the girl that seeing it now tugged at Sam’s heart. He really was happy for her, and grateful to have had the opportunity to give her the support that she was looking for as she tackled the obstacle. 

Given her previous reservations, Sam was admittedly surprised when she hugged him tightly in her excitement. He laughed and gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her, not dislodging her, but not holding onto her either. “So, what are we doing to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” She asked with a confused laugh that did nothing to dampen her happiness. “It’s just a GED, Sam. We don’t need to make a big deal about it.”

“Nuh uh,” Sam disagreed firmly with a grin. “Nope. This  _ is _ a big deal, Amelia. You worked hard for this and you  _ did it! _ If that doesn’t call for a celebration, then I don’t know what would. Bet you James, Nat, and Steve would agree with me.”

“Could we do something here?” She asked hopefully. “Maybe pizza and ice cream. That would be good for the others too, as long as we’re careful about ingredients.”

“Alright, I’m game,” Sam agreed easily, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling to one of the nearby pizza places. He handed the device to Amelia, who’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as she stared at it. “Go on. Order what you want, and no skimping just because you think it’s gonna be a bother. This is your party, Sunshine, get what you want and what everyone else would like. I’ll run and grab it and the ice cream.”

“Make sure to get at least one thing of sorbet and nothing with nuts,” Amelia said idly as she poked at his phone, already involved in building pizzas.

“Sorbet and no nuts? Got it,” Sam acknowledged. “Any particular reason?”

She hummed and nodded, “Steve can’t have dairy. And he’s got a bad allergy to nuts. We always make sure to get something for him also.”

“Does Steve have a flavor preference?” Sam asked, committing the allergies to memory. 

“Any berry,” she said automatically. “But regular chocolate or vanilla is usually a win, too.”

“You got it,” Sam smiled. 

The pizza and ice cream celebration was a hit. Amelia spent the first half hour glowing red from a combination of being put on the spot and happiness with her accomplishment. As Sam had assured her, everyone seemed perfectly in agreement that finishing her testing was absolutely a call to celebrate. Even Oliver’s little kitten made a show--attempting to steal ham off a forgotten pizza slice. 

Amelia stopped him again as he made to leave that night, “Thank you, Sam, really. All that study helped so much. I would have been so much more nervous if I’d have tried to do it on my own. I probably would have just given up, honestly.”

“I don’t think you would have,” Sam said kindly. “You’re a smart woman, and you’ve got determination. This was something that you wanted, and I have no doubt you would have gotten it with or without my help. But you’re welcome. Any time.”

She visibly hesitated for a moment before moving forward for another brief hug and immediately darting off again to the lounge where the remaining kids still sat. 

“If that’s not a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is,” Natasha said from just behind him. 

Sam startled and turned to face her, “That really necessary, Nat?”

“No,” she smirked. “How’d you get her to let you throw her a party?”

“I just told her that she deserved it,” Sam shrugged, thrown slightly by the question.

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “She doesn't usually let us. We’ve tried to do something for her birthday every year, and she always declines.”

“Maybe it’s related to that stuff that she doesn’t talk about?” Sam suggested. “Plus, this was celebrating an accomplishment. Something she put time and effort into doing. Maybe she’s just not comfortable having a celebration for something she doesn’t feel like she earned?”

Natasha tilted her head in thought, “Maybe. Either way, it was a good thing you did for her. That GED means a lot to her, and making sure she knew that she deserved it goes a long way.”

“Is Steve going to hire her on fully now?” He asked.

“In time, I think so,” Natasha nodded. “I don’t think he wants to saddle her with it right off the bat, but he’s mentioned slowly giving her more responsibility and giving her time to adjust.”

“Probably a good idea,” Sam nodded. “Anyway, I’m out for the night. You heading back to the tower?”

“Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll head out,” she answered. “Unlike a certain blonde, I don’t generally camp out here.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation, wherever it might have gone from there, was interrupted then when Natasha appeared, pausing in the doorway for a moment, brow arched curiously. “Why am I already concerned?”
> 
> “Don’t ask me why your wacky brain works the way it does, Nat,” Steve quipped immediately.
> 
> “That much paranoia cannot be good for a person,” Sam added. “It’s all good, Nat. Just friendly conversation.”
> 
> “That,” she studied him for a moment before glancing around the room again. “Doesn’t actually make me feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and Happy Friday! I don't know if anyone else's week has felt as long as mine (and it's not even over yet!), but if it has, hopefully this takes a little bit of the sting out :)
> 
> Enjoy Chapter 3 and have a great weekend!

It wasn’t one of the days that Sam regularly stopped in at the center. He had tried to keep it to a reliable routine--both out of respect for Steve and the staff, who undoubtedly had their hands full on a good day, and for some sense of continuity for the kids themselves. But when he unexpectedly had downtime--though he was technically always on call--he found himself gravitating back toward Brooklyn.

He eyed the little shop boasting baked goods for a moment, shuffling to the side to avoid getting run over by midday foot traffic. Sam wavered for a moment, wondering how pissed off it would make Steve and James if he showed up ready to indulge the kids in a sugar rush. The thought probably shouldn’t have been encouraging, or nearly as amusing as it was.

Before he reached the door, though, his attention was caught by yelling and swearing from the alleyway just beyond the little shop. He didn’t even have to glance around to know that the vast majority of the people walking past hadn't bothered to even look to see what was going on. He supposed this  _ technically _ fell into the categories in which he was  _ technically _ on call for.

Sam made a mental note to stop back by the little bakery once he had sorted out whatever this mess turned out to be. When he turned the corner, though, he found himself immensely grateful that he had.

He strode forward into the mess of swinging fists and angry snarls from four boys, three of whom seemed to have teamed up against the fourth. Unfortunately, the familiar flash of red hair meant that he knew the fourth, and this definitely wasn’t gonna fly. He didn’t hesitate, tugging the first boy out of the pile and pushing him carefully but firmly into the wall.

The boy attempted to swing but Sam easily caught his wrist and pinned it against his chest. He glared firmly at the kid, “Stay there.” 

The kid’s eyes widened in recognition, and he gave a jerky nod that Sam didn’t bother acknowledging before he waded back into the fray, pulling the remaining three boys apart and putting himself bodily between them.

“That’s enough,” he said firmly and loudly enough that they couldn’t pretend not to hear him. “You two, over there by your friend. Joey, other side. Now.”

When all four boys were reluctantly in place, Sam carefully looked all of them over, while mindfully holding his position between them. They were all in rough shape, but Joey was undoubtedly the worst off -- it looked like Sam had managed to intervene before it got too bad, thankfully. This kid. Natasha had warned him that Joey had a knack for finding himself speaking with his fists. Usually for good reason, granted, but he wasn't doing himself any favors.

“Any of you wanna tell me what this is about?” Sam asked, unsurprised by the answering silence. “I figured as much, and to be honest, right now I really don’t care. Because this,” he gestured meaningfully at the mess he’d walked into, “Is not acceptable. And three against one? Come on, guys--I don’t even know you and I know you’re better than that.”

“You three,” He said, nodding pointedly. “Go home. Clean yourselves up, make yourselves presentable, and find better ways to deal with your anger. Joey, wait for me here while I see your friends out.”

Sam gestured to the street end of the alley, and waited until the trio preceded him and followed behind. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “I basically make my living on the fight, but I can’t tell you what I’d give not to have to. You  _ don’t  _ have to. You definitely don’t have to go about it like that.” He pushed his hands into his pockets as they eyed him warily, “I don’t want to come across any of you again, understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” one of them mumbled, glancing at his friends before they all quickly took off, thankfully in the opposite direction that he and Joey would be taking.

He sighed and moved back deeper into the alley, where Joey was still leaning against the wall where Sam had told him to stay. His arms were crossed protectively in front of him and his jaw set defiantly, but his stare was wary. 

“Hey, kid,” Sam said quietly, hoping to reassure the kid that while he was concerned, he wasn’t angry. “Chin up, let me get a look at that.” Joey swallowed and eyed him, but obediently tipped his chin up and angled his face for Sam to see better. Sam raised his hands, and then paused before actually touching him, “May I? Just wanna check the damage.”

When Joey gave a jerky nod, Sam carefully braced his chin and studied the rapidly bruising skin and the split lip, whistling lowly. “Gonna be one hell of a shiner,” Sam said. “We’ll get some ice on it when we get you to the Center. Anywhere else?”

“Nah,” Joey huffed, pulling his face away from Sam’s hands. “They were too busy runnin’ their mouths to actually land a proper hit.”

Sam let his hands fall to his side and stepped back, but snorted in amusement at the words, “Looks like one of them got a lucky shot, then.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, and turned toward the end of the alley, Sam falling into step next to him. 

They walked most of the way to the Center in silence, before Sam spoke up again. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

“They were just being assholes. I had it handled, Sam,” Joey frowned.

“I’m sure you did, kid,” Sam smirked. “But you know that answer’s not gonna fly if Nat or Steve’s there?”

“They worry too much, I was fine,” he insisted.

“Alright,” Sam conceded. “You got a lot of people that worry about you, you know? They fuss because they care, not because they think you’re not capable.”

“Right,” Joey snorted. “Steve was going to go after that big guy on his own before Natalie showed up--which was weird, by the way. I’m bigger than he is!”

“I have it on good authority that you shouldn’t let him hear you say something like that,” Sam laughed. 

Joey winced, “Yeah, that’s probably good advice, huh?”

“Steve’s also been around a bit longer,” Sam pointed out. “You should know, I know you’ve watched him and James and Natalie spar together.”

“So you think I should just give up too,” he scowled.

“No,” Sam corrected. “I think you should learn to pick your battles a bit better, and fight smarter instead of harder. I’ve got no doubts that you’re capable, just think you still got a lot to learn.”

“D’you mean what you said?” He asked thoughtfully a few moments later.

“Which part?”

“About wishing you could stop fighting?”

“Well, yeah,” Sam shrugged. “I absolutely wish that the world was a place where we didn’t have the terribleness that we have. That we didn’t  _ have _ to fight. Don’t get me wrong, retirement’s not in my game plan just yet, but if there was a way to solve all the world’s problems that didn’t come down to a fight? I’d definitely be considering it.”

Sam shifted to pull the door to the Center open, dropped a hand lightly on Joey’s shoulder to guide the boy in ahead of him. Surprisingly, Joey led the way directly to where the ice packs and other first aid supplies were held. 

Unfortunately for him, Steve was already there waiting. Sam had already come to realize that Joey’s fights weren’t an irregular occurrence, but Steve seemed to have an almost eerie sixth sense of when the boy had gotten into another scuffle.

“Joey,” Steve huffed. He shook his head and nodded toward the chair at the ready. “You know the drill. Sam, grab an ice pack, will ya?”

Sam dug through the freezer, and then through various drawers until he found a small hand towel to wrap around the pack. He dragged another chair along, setting it a foot or so from where Joey sat sullenly, and dropped into it. He reached across the small distance and handed the pack to Joey, who immediately pressed it against the side of his face.

“I swear, I’m startin’ to think you like getting hit,” Steve grumbled, only to shoot a dark glare at the doorway when a snort of amusement followed the words.

Sam glanced over his shoulder and waved lazily to James, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of him. James nodded in greeting before shooting Steve another look that Sam wasn’t able to decipher. “I feel like I’ve heard those words before, Stevie. Can’t seem to remember where, though,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Shut up, Buck,” Steve scowled.

“Just pointing that out,” James smirked, pushing off the doorframe and entering the room fully. “So what was this one about, J?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I didn’t actually start it this time?” Joey asked sullenly. 

“I would if that was the truth,” James said easily. “Is it?”

“No,” he admitted with a sigh. “Yes? Sort of? I didn’t swing first.”

“Doubt they gave you much chance to swing first,” Sam pointed out. “Three on one didn’t really give you the upper hand.”

“Three on--” Steve cut himself off sharply and exhaled slowly. “What happened, Joey?”

“I may have gotten in an argument with one of them earlier today. At school,” he winced. “It was all words though. Not nice words but just words. They kinda caught up with me on my way here.”

“Gotta love pack hunters,” Sam snorted irritably, half-way wishing that he’d been a little harder on the boys before he sent them on their way. Not that it would have done anyone any good. They’d shape up or they’d stay exactly the same, and it was entirely up to those boys what they wanted to be. Sam wasn’t going to be able to change their minds for them, and neither would Joey.

“Glad I got there when I did.”

“I had it,” Joey insisted with a glare. “I can take care of myself.”

“And what did I tell you earlier?” Sam asked, brow arched pointedly. “You’re a capable kid, but you’ve still got a lot to learn. No shame in having back up when three of them come at you on your own.”

“You could take three people on your own,” Joey argued.

“Lots and lots of very painful practice at getting my ass kicked,” Sam admitted. “And one hell of a team that has my back just like I’ve got theirs.”

“Steve here knows a thing or two about practicing getting his ass kicked too,” James pointed out, pushing himself up to sit on the counter, earning yet another glare from Steve. Though Sam couldn’t be sure if it was the counter-sitting or the words that earned that particular one. Both, maybe?

“Maybe by Natalie,” Joey huffed, rolling his eyes.

“More than just Natalie, but sure,” James shrugged. 

“The point is,” Steve interjected firmly with another glare in James’ direction, “that we’re glad a shiner’s the worst thing to come out of it. Don’t suppose you thanked Sam?” Joey just glared up at him from where he was seated, and Steve huffed. “Right. Go on then. Go let Nat fuss.”

“Natalie doesn’t fuss,” Joey protested but quickly took the opportunity to escape the room. 

“Don’t remember you ever thanking me either,” James said once the boy was gone. 

“It’s a pride thing,” Sam shrugged, settling back into his chair. “I get it. Pretty sure I was damn near the same way. I wouldn’t have thanked anyone for stepping in and fighting my battles for me either.”

“Stevie, too,” James said, pointedly ignoring Steve’s evident discomfort at being discussed. “Can’t tell you how many times I dragged his skinny ass out of one fight or another, and not from the upper hand of a damn one of them.”

“That’s not true,” Steve protested. “I had it handled.”

Steve’s glare turned to Sam when he couldn’t quite help the automatic chuckle. He held his hands up in front of him placatingly. “Sorry, Steve,” he grinned. “Joey said almost the exact same thing on the way here. ‘I had it handled, Sam’.”

“Lemme guess,” James grinned. “He definitely did not have it handled, did he?”

Sam winced, “He was tryin’.”

“Told you that kid’s your mini-bigger-you!” James teased Steve.

“Mini-Bigger?” Sam repeated, and then bit down on his lip to keep from laughing when the comment suddenly clicked in his mind and brought back the words Joey had said about the man’s size. While the banter was undoubtedly amusing, Sam had to drop his gaze to his hands momentarily to avoid blatantly staring at the man, regardless. Might be small, but Sam didn’t exactly consider that a bad thing.

“Oh shut up, Buck,” Steve groaned.

“It did get me thinkin’ though,” Sam interjected, looking back up at the other two men. “What do you think about bringing in strategy? Games, challenges, that sort of thing. Make it fun for them but also get them looking at the bigger picture.”

James tilted his head in thought, and they exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to Sam. “It has potential,” he admitted. 

“Wouldn’t be hard to implement either,” Steve agreed. “Joey would benefit from it.”

“They all could,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, in a way it’s not too far off from perspective for art, or whatever long-term planning the tech types like Drew or Stark do, right? There's a lot of different ways to approach it.”

“That could work,” Steve said, dropping into the chair that Joey had abandoned and staring somewhat distantly, as though the plans were formulating in front of him, invisible to everyone else. “I’ll have to get Natalie and Amelia in on it too. I’m sure they’ve got some ideas.” He shook his head and offered Sam a small grin, “Good one, Sam. Thanks.”

“Sure,” he shrugged with a nonchalance that he really wasn’t feeling at that particular moment. “Glad to help.”

The conversation, wherever it might have gone from there, was interrupted then when Natasha appeared, pausing in the doorway for a moment, brow arched curiously. “Why am I already concerned?”

“Don’t ask me why your wacky brain works the way it does, Nat,” Steve quipped immediately.

“That much paranoia cannot be good for a person,” Sam added. “It’s all good, Nat. Just friendly conversation.”

“That,” she studied him for a moment before glancing around the room again. “Doesn’t actually make me feel any better. 

“We’re just scheming, Natalie,” James grinned. “Using Cap here to go for the whole global domination thing, and siccing Angry-Stevie on our opposition.”

“In that case, don’t let me interrupt,” Nat smirked, crossing the room to perch on the edge of one of the tables. Sam bit back his amusement at the annoyed mutter about ‘asses on furniture’ from Steve. “Didn’t know you were coming by today, Sam?” she asked, eyeing him knowingly.

“Didn’t originally plan on it,” he shrugged and left it at that--though her expression seemed to call ‘bullshit’ without her saying a word. 

She just hummed in amusement and swung her feet idly, “So, what are we doing about Joey?”

“Not sure there’s a whole lot we can do about Joey,” James said. “Other than finding a better way to focus that energy. Steve found his focus in this place, Joey’s just gonna have to find his own.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Sam said thoughtfully. “He’s just wanting to prove himself. Not just to us, or to whoever he’s fighting, but probably to himself too. Keeps circling back to him being capable.”

“And he is capable,” Nat pointed out. “Maybe not capable of taking on the world with his fists, but he’s capable.”

Sam sat upright suddenly, and met her gaze evenly, “Know who else he reminds me of?”

“Who?” She asked, eyes narrowed sharply in consideration.

“Tony,” Sam said firmly.

“Stark?” James asked curiously. 

“Joey Roberts reminds you of Tony Stark?” Steve said, expression twisted in obvious distaste.

“Just listen,” Sam insisted. “You don’t know Tony, just the image he lets the public run with, and that’s nowhere near the truth of the man. Tony is a literal genius, everyone knows that.” He shifted his attention to Natasha, meeting her gaze steadily. “How often does Tony go out of his way to keep trying to prove it? That he actually is smart, fast, strong enough? That he’s good enough? Not out of arrogance, either, not like we  _ all _ originally wanted to think. Think about it, Nat. Think about how often that flashy arrogance is used as a- a defense. Now think of the way Joey goes into fights? He doesn’t do it ‘cause he’s angry. He’s not an angry kid.”

“He needs to prove that he’s smart and fast and strong enough,” Natasha said slowly, tilting her head slowly to the side as she considered it. “Alright. I can see what you’re saying. There are resemblances.”

“Tony does it by being an ass with his words and being flashy,” Sam smirked. “He also does it by making sure that we’re as protected as that big brain of his is capable of doing. Think of the tower, too.”

“Okay, I get it,” Natasha huffed a laugh. “You win, Wilson. Don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled.

“So,” James interjected. “What do we do with that?”

“Let me get back to you on that,” Natasha said, and then pushed off the table. “I’ve got a hook to bait. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“That…wasn’t very encouraging, actually,” James frowned slightly, staring after her as she left the room.

“Pretty sure it wasn’t meant to be,” Sam laughed.

“What’s this hook she’s baiting?” Steve asked suspiciously.

“I’m not sure exactly,” Sam admitted. “Thing is, my team. It’s an odd dynamic. On paper it shouldn’t work, and yet somehow it does. But if Nat says she’s got something that  _ might _ work? I’ve found it’s more likely that it’ll work better than any of us anticipated. I trust her judgement, and I’m pretty sure you do too.”

“I’m just not sure I like the transition from Tony Stark to Nat bolting off with an idea,” Steve admitted warily.

“Tony’s a lot to handle, but he’s a good man,” Sam assured him. “Even when we don’t exactly see eye to eye--which is often enough, believe me--I’d still say the same thing.”

Steve just shrugged and James interjected again, “Oh, quit being pissy that you weren’t the one to come up with this mysterious idea.”

“What? No,” Steve frowned. “It’s my literal job to help these kids, Buck.”

“Is that or is that not exactly why you brought me on?” James countered. “And why you agreed to bring Nat in as a volunteer?” Steve huffed, but couldn’t argue the point. James nodded, “Exactly, stop looking for a fight for the sake of it.”

An awkward silence descended on the room, and Sam shifted uncomfortably as he watched the fight seem to go out of Steve at the mild chiding. “So- uh,” he said. “Strategy?”

James snorted in amusement, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalie hadn’t been at the Center yesterday either, he realized with a jolt. Seeing Sam now, in the state he was, he couldn’t help but wonder if they had both been off on some Avengers-related mission. It seemed likely. He approached cautiously, scraping his shoes against the floor intentionally to announce his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm _late_! This week has been a whirlwind but back to normal schedule going forward (promise)!
> 
> Anyway, here is chapter 4! I hope that you enjoy :)

Steve left his office, closing the door quietly behind him. He could hear the echoing sounds of the kids chatting boisterously, even as far away as he was, and smiled softly. They only seemed to have that kind of cohesive energy on the days that Sam came by -- otherwise, they seemed to drift off into their own friend groupings. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he casually made his way that direction, only to pause mid-step as he turned the corner. Sam was leaning heavily against the wall just adjacent to the double doors that led to the main room of the center, head tilted back against it with a grimace on his expression. Steve scanned him in concern, noting the broad hand pressed cautiously against his ribs and the carefully steady breathing. Now that he was looking, there was slight swelling along the left side of his jaw as well. 

Natalie hadn’t been at the Center yesterday either, he realized with a jolt. Seeing Sam now, in the state he was, he couldn’t help but wonder if they had both been off on some Avengers-related mission. It seemed likely. He approached cautiously, scraping his shoes against the floor intentionally to announce his presence.

“Sam?” he frowned in concern. “Are you alright?” 

“Steve, hey,” Sam said, pulling himself upright. Suddenly, nearly all the previous signs of his discomfort were gone, and the usual friendly smile was firmly back on his expression. The only thing Steve could still pick out on a casual glance was the swelling, but even that seemed to get overshadowed by that smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just needed a minute, you know?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed hesitantly, eyes narrowing in consideration. “I don’t imagine having a bunch of teenagers jumping all over you is the friendliest thing for newly broken ribs.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he winced guiltily before huffing a small laugh, grimacing when it jarred his injuries. “Collar bones either,” Sam admitted ruefully. 

“Not sure if they or Nat’ll be the most pissed off to find out you’re makin’ it worse,” Steve pointed out dryly.

“I know,” Sam grinned, and then shrugged one shoulder -- Steve assumed the other side was attached to the aforementioned broken collar bone. “I promised them I’d be here today though. I can handle a little bit of pain for that, Docs gave me the good stuff for once I’m back home. Until then, I’ll be fine. They don’t need to be worrying about me on top of everything else.”

Steve glanced past him to the double doors where the loud chatter could still be heard, and smiled slightly. “Yeah, they have that effect,” he agreed. When he turned his attention back to Sam, he had to blink in surprise when he found those dark eyes studying him curiously. He could feel his face heat, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I can- uh- make your excuses, if you want?”

“Nah,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “I’ll stick around a little bit longer. Most of the jumping and hugs should be done for now. Might even be able to skate by with high-fives when I leave. Just gotta make sure Nat doesn’t catch me here.”

Steve snorted a laugh and gave a commiserating grin, “She likes to intentionally jab where she knows your injuries are too, huh?”

“She’s got to make her point somehow,” Sam said by way of agreement.

“Don’t forget that she’s been teachin’ them too,” Steve smirked. “They might still like you too much to do that to you, though.”

“Small favors,” Sam grinned. He paused and rocked back on his heels slightly, looking as nervous as Steve had seen the man in the few short months that he had been coming by the Center. “So, Steve, I’ve been thinkin’--”

“Sam!” Nathan called as he barreled out of the room, the door just barely stopping before it slammed into the wall. Steve watched Sam flinch at the suddenness of the interruption and force down a grimace, even as he pushed the smile back onto his face. It really was a nice smile, but Steve couldn’t help but momentarily compare it to the grin from just seconds before. 

“On my way back in, man, just stopped to talk to Steve for a minute,” Sam said, hesitating a moment and shooting a glance back at Steve. Whatever Sam had been thinking, whatever he had been intending to say apparently wasn’t meant for a 14-year-old audience because Sam sighed almost inaudibly and followed the kid back into the room.

Steve automatically winced sympathetically when the boy tugged Sam by the arm over to the table to show him whatever had gotten him so excited. He couldn’t help but admire the way that none of the pain the man surely must be feeling--Steve knew for a fact how much of a nightmare broken ribs could be--show on his expression as he encouraged the boy’s enthusiasm. Steve knew he was more like a pissed off, wet cat when he was hurting -- he wasn’t quite sure how Sam managed it.

* * *

“I don’t get that, though,” Josh argued. “Who makes up these things? Why would anyone want their chips to taste like coffee?”

Sam laughed and shook his head, “I wouldn’t know, kid. Someone’s obviously buying the stuff though. They wouldn’t make it if there wasn’t a market for it somewhere.”

They entered the lounge area with Josh still grumbling about the awful variety flavored chips that he’d come across at the store with his mom, only to pause at the doorway. Hannah was carefully helping Steve to one of the couches, her eyes shot up when they entered and her shoulders slumped in relief, “Josh, can you go get Steve’s inhaler from his office?”

Josh nodded quickly and immediately took off back down the hall. Sam watched him go briefly before slowly approaching the pair on the couch. Hannah sat next to Steve, her hand carefully rubbing up and down his back in an intentionally slower pace. Sam grabbed one of the chairs nearby and sat far enough away not to crowd, but close enough to help however he might be able to. Josh rushed back into the room and crouched down in front of Steve, handing him the inhaler promptly.

Sam noted that, while both kids were clearly worried, they weren’t the frantic sort of worried that would have led Sam to believe that it was an unusual occurrence. They were both obviously concerned, but calm in helping Steve. Hannah’s hands didn’t shake, Josh’s voice was calm and steady. As though this was something that they knew how to handle, they were mostly confident in their abilities here. Had done it before, and knew they could do it again with little issue. 

After a few long minutes, Steve nodded at the two teens, “Thanks guys. I’m okay.”

“D’you know what it was?” Hannah asked curiously, the accented twist on her words seeming to make it more earnest than intrusive.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, though seemingly unable to meet either of their eyes. Embarrassed, Sam imagined. “Yeah, I got it handled though, don’t worry. Thank you both.”

Josh seemed to eye him suspiciously, but Hannah just shrugged, “Alright. Need us for anything else?”

“No,” Steve said with a small smile. “No, I’m okay. Thank you for asking.”

“C’mon, Joshie,” Hannah said, grinning when Josh rolled his eyes at the moniker. “Oliver wants to give his cat a bath, and I wanna watch.” Josh snorted but pushed to his feet, clapping Steve lightly on the shoulder before trailing after Hannah.

“You can go too,” Steve said pointedly, staring at his hands instead of meeting Sam’s attention. From the angle he sat, Sam could see a deep red flush climbing up the man’s neck and over his face and ears.

“I don’t really have the same interest in cat-wrangling,” Sam shrugged. He leaned back more comfortably in his chair. “You know, I was reading a bit, and there’s people that build these shelf things high up on the walls in areas that the cats hangout, like a perch for them, since they like high places. Thought about looking into supplies to maybe put some up in here.”

Sam eyed the walls of the lounge, mentally planning out where the little shelf-ledges might go. From the corner of his eye he could see Steve’s body language relax slightly when he didn’t press about the attack. Steve nodded slowly, “Yeah, we can probably do something like that. Though, if they’re giving the poor beast a bath, it might never come back down.”

“It’ll get hungry at some point,” Sam grinned. “Oliver’s good with the thing, though. Doubt it’ll be able to hold out on being annoyed for too long. Think I’ll do some digging and bring some of the supplies with me next time I come by. I think between Jamie, Aaron, James and myself, we should be able to get a whole network type thing set up throughout the building. Think Oliver’d get a kick out of that.”

“Just not my office,” Steve said with a grimace.

“Steve,” Sam said seriously. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You might not,” Steve conceded with a wry smile. 

“James might say he would, but I don’t think he’d go through with it either,” Sam said pointedly.

“Unless it was his roundabout way of pushing me to get on better meds,” Steve said with a huff. Sam didn’t think that finding medications that worked better for him was necessarily a bad idea, but knew when his input wasn’t welcome. He kept his mouth shut on that particular topic for the time being.

“Which, I assure you,” Steve added wryly, “he’s not above pulling.”

“I’ll bribe Nat to distract him if he brings it up,” Sam offered with a sly grin.

“That,” Steve said with a smile of his own. “That might actually work. I’m glad I’m not the only one that’s picked up on that.”

“No, it’s pretty obvious from where I’m standing,” Sam laughed. “Think he’s the only one that actually believes he’s being subtle. I’ve overheard a couple of the girls whispering about it, too.”

“No shit?” Steve said, smile stretching quickly into a grin. “And he likes to give me hell for being ‘subtle as a freight train’.” He slumped back against the couch, eyes closed, and Sam took the opportunity to study him for a brief moment. 

By most social standards, Steve wasn’t the type of man that would be considered attractive in the traditional sense. But if there was one thing Sam had learned over the years, it was that social standards weren’t very friendly to even the people that fit the requirements. He supposed it didn’t really matter if _society_ would or wouldn’t find Steve attractive, not when Sam could easily admit that he did. 

Even as worn as he was just then, Steve had a sturdiness to him that seemed to be overlooked in favor of his smaller stature and his health problems. The way that he so obviously cared and put so much of himself into everything he did only enhanced his attractiveness in Sam’s opinion. Admittedly, it worried him too. Sam knew all too well that putting too much forward without giving yourself the opportunity to rest on occasion didn’t usually end very well.

Whatever discomfort had existed following his attack earlier seemed to have faded, thankfully. The amusement from the conversation was still there, but he looked exhausted. Sam wondered when the last time he’d taken a day away from this place was. He was willing to bet it hadn’t been anytime recently.

“Hey Sam,” Steve said quietly when the silence drifted from slightly awkward to just short of companionable. Sam met his still mostly-closed eyes, and Steve smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“What for?” Sam asked.

“Not making a big deal about it?” Steve shrugged.

“It’s not my business,” Sam replied. “If it’s something you want to talk about, then I’m here to listen -- otherwise, I’m good to distract you from focusing on it. Not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“Still. Thanks for not pushing,” Steve said again.

“Not a problem,” Sam responded. After a moment of companionable silence, Sam spoke again. “So, I’ve been curious. Why teens?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“What made you set this place up for the older group and not the younger, or not _also_ the younger?” He asked.

“Ah,” Steve winced a little guiltily. “It’s a bit selfish actually. My immune system isn’t the greatest on a good day and already has enough to focus on. The younger kids…” he winced again. “They’re not, as a whole, as aware of that kind of thing? I don’t mean to be rude about it or anything. The older kids make it a little bit easier to, I guess keep myself from making it worse than it already is? And they’re all from the neighborhood that Buck and I grew up in. I’ve known most of them most of their lives.”

“Nothing wrong with looking out for yourself while doing a good thing, Steve,” Sam said. “That makes sense though. It probably helps that these guys are old enough to be mostly self-sufficient. Mentor rather than babysitter type of thing, I guess.”

“That definitely helps,” Steve agreed. “It means that sixteen kids and three, now four of us, is manageable rather than overwhelming. Fifteen and five of us, once I’m able to bring Amelia on.”

Sam wondered if having the additional help might mean that Steve would use the opportunity to take better care of himself. He didn’t ask. He did take a moment, though, to feel the pleasant rush at being considered a part of the Center.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Told you he wasn’t gonna leave them without supplies,” Sam said, leaning further to the side to mutter the words quietly to Steve. 
> 
> “That’s a lot of trail mix and berries,” Steve said faintly, staring at the crates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Friday and another chapter!

“So this is it, huh?” Tony asked blandly, eyeing the building with poorly concealed curiosity. “The little Brooklyn hideaway that you two keep disappearing to?”

Sam shook his head in amused exasperation at the description but shrugged, “Yeah, this is it. C’mon, most of the kids should be here by now.”

Tony was remarkably quiet as they entered the building, and surprisingly stayed that way until the kids noticed their presence and called their greetings to Sam. He had to admit that there was something special about being greeted by name rather than by his alternate title. 

Sam recognized Tony’s ‘public’ persona when he grinned his own greeting, complete with sarcastic commentary. If he hadn’t known, lived and worked alongside the man for the last few years, Sam might have missed the familiar tension in Tony’s words. He forced back the urge to smirk when he realized that Tony Stark was actually  _ nervous. _

The nervousness was still there, but the tension in his voice seemed to dissipate when Tony glanced around only to zero in on where Drew was using the room’s general distraction to take over one of the Centers’ few decently functioning laptops. Sam followed Tony’s gaze and let himself settle into one of the more comfortable chairs at one of the other tables, arm draped comfortably across the back of the neighboring one, to watch Tony get drawn into the interaction when Drew carefully, but with one eye seemingly glued to the rest of the distracted group, shut the computer down and unplugged the power cable.

He jolted slightly when Tony dropped down in the chair next to him, “What are we doing?”

“I- uh- I do some work on it every couple of months,” Drew explained hesitantly. “It gets a lot of use, you know? I try to make sure it stays as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Show me,” Tony said in his usual brusque manner, leaning forward into his chair and propping his elbows on his knees. Sam could recognize the eagerness, but it was just as obvious that Drew couldn’t. 

“Go on, kid, show Stark what you’ve got,” Sam said encouragingly. 

Drew eyed Tony for a moment and then met Sam’s eye, and when Sam gave a small nod the boy seemed to relax slightly, trusting Sam’s judgement -- which was far more flattering than Sam had expected it to be. Drew quickly launched into a rapidfire, in-depth explanation of what he was doing and why. Tony seemed to keep up just fine, but Sam didn’t bother trying. That was their world. 

It wasn’t long before Chloe, Simon and Joey joined the table, asking both Drew and Tony questions. Drew blinked in wary surprise at first. Usually, the other kids left him to it. Sam wasn’t sure if it was because Tony was there, or if it was Drew actually taking the time to explain what he was doing that drew the other kids’ interest, or maybe a combination of the two. It was a welcome thing to see when Drew smiled shyly and did his best to answer their questions. 

Soon after that, the laptop was fully disassembled with pieces and parts scattered carefully across the table, and all five of them were caught in discussion over what parts needed to be replaced soon, what could be rebuilt better than before, and how they could go about doing so. Tony had his phone face up in the center of the table, JARVIS’s familiar voice joining the discussion periodically from the phone’s speaker. 

Sam had thought that it would be a good idea to bring Tony in, but he really hadn’t expected this good of results. He definitely wasn’t going to complain. At this rate, the Center was going to have basically brand-new, functioning computers for the kids built almost entirely by their own hands. 

He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and glanced up to find Steve hovering at the doorway, watching the interaction with cautious curiosity. He met Sam’s eye and nodded, slowly entering the room and taking a seat beside him, seemingly unbothered by either the close placement of the chair or Sam’s arm across the back of it. Sam tried to stay focused on what was going on around him rather than the fact that Steve was close enough that they were nearly cuddling in the middle of the lounge while Tony and the kids tore the computer apart. But if Steve wasn’t uncomfortable, Sam saw no reason to withdraw.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“Tony saw Drew doing his usual computer stuff, and now all of them are brainstorming technology improvements,” Sam answered. “I think this is the most I’ve heard Drew talk in a single sitting.”

“Yeah, he’s usually one of the quieter ones,” Steve agreed. 

“It’s good to see Joey getting engaged in it too,” Sam pointed out with a small smile.

“If it keeps him interested, it might be worth investing in whatever supplies they need,” Steve nodded. “Can use the funds leftover from regularly restocking the first aid supplies.”

“With any luck,” Sam laughed. “Though I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that.”

“What do you mean?” Steve frowned.

“Tony’s got a captive audience to tech-talk with,” Sam nodded toward the table. “No way the man’s going to leave them without the tools to keep tech-ing.” 

“He doesn’t need to do that,” Steve said, frown growing deeper. “We can get them what they need through the budget.”

“That’s just how Tony operates, don’t try taking it personal because it’s not,” Sam advised. “He sees something that he can fix, whether it’s through his brain power or through funds, and he doesn’t even think much about it before he’s fixing it. He sees that these kids are happy playing with tech, I can guarantee you that his first thought was ‘oh let’s give them more’. Just like when he found out Banner hadn’t done much, what with being on the run and all, Tony cleared out a lab space and filled it with things relevant to Banner’s field. He does stuff like that for all of us, and for his SI staff. It’s just how he operates.”

“What’s the catch?” Steve asked cautiously, leaning back into the chair and therefore Sam’s arm. It was a small thing, but done so casually that it felt significant. 

“Far as I’ve been able to tell, there isn’t one,” Sam shrugged, mindfully turning his attention back to the discussion. 

“As far as you’ve been able to tell,” Steve repeated.

Sam eyed him for a moment and then laughed softly, glancing back to the table where Tony and the kids were poking at circuit boards, and then back to Steve, “If you need it to feel like a fair trade? Stock up on trail mix and berries if he comes back. Man’s a snacker. He hardly takes breaks from R&D for SI and for us, but we’ve started keeping that sort of stuff around and stashing it in various places in his lab so he’ll at least eat something.”

“Computer parts for food,” Steve huffed a disbelieving laugh. 

Sam shrugged again, “And even then, it’ll probably end up piled in the center of that table to be shared.”

Steve looked away and eyed Tony for a moment, “That’s not… what I expected.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Sam grinned. “When he gets going, he can be a hard man to deal with. Real hard when he gets it in his head that he’s right, and he’s got a hell of a knack for pushing buttons as hard and as fast as he can possibly manage. He’s an abrasive asshole, but he’s an abrasive asshole who cares a hell of a lot more than he’s given credit for. Kinda sounds like someone else I know.”

“Bucky,” Steve said immediately with a slight grin.

“Not who I was talkin’ about but, sure, we’ll go with that,” Sam smirked and nudged Steve pointedly.

Steve blinked in surprise and his face turned pink, “Oh. Well, I guess there’s a reason why Buck and I always got along.”

“Wilson,” Tony interjected without looking up from what he was doing.

“Stark,” Sam called back.

“Happy’s going to be pulling around in a minute,” Tony said absently. “I had J let him know to have Banner grab some things from the lab.”

“That’s good to know,” Sam said blandly.

Tony’s brow furrowed and he finally glanced up, brows shooting high when he finally realized that Sam wasn’t alone. “Rogers, right? Good. Is it okay if my driver hauls a box or two in for these kids to play around with? It’s just circuit boards and wires and that kind of thing. Nothing that’s going to, you know, explode or anything. Unless that’s the intention, which it’s not. Because this is a Youth Center and not my lab, so it won't.”

Sam had to look away to avoid laughing outright at Steve’s first wide-eyed experience with Tony-Talk. He turned back to smirk knowingly at Steve, who rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Yeah,” Steve finally answered. “Yeah that’s fine. I’ll need him to sign the visitor’s log inside the doors though.”

“Awesome. Done,” Tony nodded crisply before turning back to his phone and passing the message along. 

It was only a few moments later when Happy pushed into the room with two fairly large crates balanced in his arms. “Where do you want it, Boss?”

“Here, by me,” Tony said absently, waving distractedly to the floor beside him. “Thanks, Happy.”

“No problem, Boss,” Happy responded.

“Told you he wasn’t gonna leave them without supplies,” Sam said, leaning further to the side to mutter the words quietly to Steve. 

“That’s a lot of trail mix and berries,” Steve said faintly, staring at the crates.

“Coffee is a suitable form of currency where he’s involved too,” Sam laughed, settling back into his chair. “Honestly though, that right there, interacting and teaching them his field? Pretty sure that’s pretty much payment enough. Think of it as a gift rather than an exchange, it’ll work a little better for you.”

“He’s always like this?” Steve asked incredulously.

“You should have seen him when Nat had one of her Bites short out,” Sam huffed. “I think he ended up on a three day bender over that one. Same thing when Clint--Hawkeye--was having some problems with one of the specialty arrows. Making sure we’ve got the best and are protected by the best is almost a point of pride for the man. Even when we tell him that it can wait, low priority. He’ll bust his ass until it’s done.”

“Nat dosed his coffee once after a four-day,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Pretty much the first and last time I saw someone legit go off on her.”

“Well, I mean, I can’t say I blame him there,” Steve admitted reluctantly. “Not sure I’d be too happy to know she drugged me either.”

“Nat’s got a weird way of showing she cares too though,” Sam shrugged. “She hasn’t done it again, thankfully. Though I do think she managed to convince JARVIS to switch his coffee to decaf after a certain point.”

“I wonder which he would consider to be the worse offense,” Steve smirked thoughtfully. “Should see Bucky without his daily caffeine. You think my wet-cat mode is bad? Buck’s a grizzly with a toothache without his coffee.”

“Don’t think I ever said the wet-cat mode was bad,” Sam smirked. ‘Bad’ definitely wasn’t the term Sam would have used anyway. He wasn’t entirely sure how Steve would respond to ‘cute,’ so he didn’t clarify.

“You don’t have to,” Steve snorted. “I’m well aware of it without anyone having to say a damned thing.”

“You’ve been lucky,” Sam said. “I’ve managed to avoid being here when I’m a grouch. Pretty sure Nat’s familiar with it by now. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you.”

“Right,” Steve said with a disbelieving scoff.

“It’s true,” Tony suddenly interjected without looking up from his work. “Not a fun day when Cap here gets his feathers ruffled. Should see him when one of us botches an OP.”

“Why do I get the impression that it’s usually well-deserved?” Steve asked pointedly, though any bite to the question was waylaid by a grin.

“Because you’re smarter than you look,” Tony quipped back immediately. “And because Wilson’s good at making us all believe he’s a big teddy bear that does no wrong.” Tony glanced up mischievously, “Anyone here gotten the disappointed-DadCap lecture yet?”

“I have,” Joey admitted with a small laugh. 

“I knew I liked you,” Tony smirked with narrowed eyes. “Good at it, isn’t he?”

“Disappointed-DadCap lecture?” Steve repeated, eyeing Sam with amused curiosity. “Do I want to know?”

“Just a whole ‘you’re better than that’ so on and so forth, with the Big Disappointed Face thing he does,” Tony answered. “Somehow like you’re an inch tall and capable of taking on anything at the same time. Not sure how he manages that one, actually.”

“What else ruffles Sam’s feathers?” Chloe asked slyly with an eager grin, her eyes lingering curiously on Sam and then Steve and back again.

Tony hummed thoughtfully and leaned back into his chair, “Let’s see. Botched Ops, mornings--the guy’s so not a morning person, not that I blame him there. Mornings are a terrible thing. But we get called out first thing early in the morning? Oh yeah, not a good start to the day. Uhh, where was I going with that? Right, ruffling Cap’s feathers… Finding empty containers in the fridge, that’ll do the trick.”

“Okay, Stark, that’s enough,” Sam huffed, though he was more amused than anything. He jolted when a sharp elbow jabbed him in the side. 

Steve grinned cheekily, “Not a morning person, huh?”

“Not in the least,” Sam admitted with a laugh. 

“Does Nat do the thing where she pats you on the head all mockingly?” Steve asked.

Sam couldn’t help the eyeroll and huff in response to the question, “Pretty sure Natalie does that to anyone and everyone she knows she can get away with it on. Same with the whole poking-injuries-thing.”

“And the sneaking-up-on-people-thing, don’t forget that one,” Tony pointed out. 

“I thought that was just us!” Simon said suddenly. “She’s not there, and then she’s there! How does she do that?”

“Magic,” Tony said automatically, and Sam had to admit that it was a nicer answer than the truth. That definitely wasn’t a story they needed to hear, and definitely not one that Sam was going to divulge. Steve glanced warily between Sam and Tony, question obvious in his expression. Sam just shook his head. Steve must have gathered some sort of understanding into Natasha’s past in the time that he had known her, because he winced slightly but nodded in acceptance. 

“Magic,” Joey repeated with a disbelieving huff. 

Tony shrugged and zeroed back into the laptop project on the table, “Yep, magic. You want to grab that small spool of wire from the crate, Red?” Joey blinked at the random nickname but did as asked, and was pulled back to the computer parts just as quickly.

Sam and Steve settled back in to watch them work, talking quietly among themselves so as not to pull their attention away from what Tony was teaching them. It was interesting watching the new dynamics form. When they finally reassembled the laptop, Sam was certain that it probably functioned better than it had when it was brand new. The best part, in his opinion, was that Tony hadn’t taken over the project like he was often known for doing. He had simply talked them through the process, not giving the answers or even leading the kids to them. Whatever they had done to the computer, whatever pieces they had fixed or rebuilt under Tony’s guidance had been done completely by their own hands. 

He wondered if any of them realized that just yet. 

“Congrats,” Tony quipped, smirking at the kids sitting around the table. “Rebuild Your Computer 101. I think I’ve got a couple old shells back in my lab that I took parts from periodically. I’ll bring them with me next time, and we’ll see how you do building from scratch.” He cocked his head in thought, “Once you’ve built a decent system, I can show you programming and robotics.”

“Robots?” Chloe echoed, barely restraining herself from bouncing in her seat.

“Robots,” Tony repeated, smirk turning to a grin. He glanced over his shoulder briefly enough to nod approvingly at Steve. “Smart group of kids you got here, Rogers.”

“That they are,” Steve said with a proud grin for the four teens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by :) See you next week! <3 <3 <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t until a little later, once their orders had been placed and an almost awkward silence fell between them, that Steve realized that it was the first time they had really spent any time together outside of the Center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! 
> 
> Who's ready for some Awkward Steve? Anyone? Well, you've got him! :D :D
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this week's update!

It was late enough in the evening that all of the kids had already left for the night. Bucky had already headed home for the night with a stern warning that Steve had better follow shortly. Steve stared at the pile of paperwork growing on his desktop, and the long list of emails on the bulky old computer that probably only still worked because of Drew’s careful diligence. He knew that he probably wasn’t leaving any time soon, he would just have to deal with Bucky’s lectures. 

A soft knock on the office’s open door drew his attention away from the work, and Steve automatically smiled in greeting when he found Sam standing there. The smile quickly faded into concern when he took in Sam’s haggard and worn body language. “Hey,” he greeted. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered slowly, almost hesitantly entering the office, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Steve pushed his chair back and moved around the desk to approach him. “You sure?” he asked carefully, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the desk and taking the second one for himself. 

Sam gave a small smile, but Steve could tell that it was forced. There wasn’t nearly the amount of warmth that his smile generally held. “Sorry,” he said quietly as he dropped into the chair. “I know you’re busy, don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said dismissively. “I’m grateful for the excuse to stop staring at it for now, honestly.”

Sam nodded slowly but distractedly. Steve frowned in concern, studying the unusually subdued man in an attempt to figure out what was wrong, and what had brought him to the Center so late on a day that he wouldn’t usually stop by at all. His shoulders were slumped and his expression distantly miserable. There was an odd air of defeat surrounding him, and it worried Steve more than he knew how to articulate. 

Even then, though, with seemingly the weight of the world on those broad shoulders, Steve had to admit that Sam was still every bit as stunning as he ever was. He hadn’t drawn more than idle doodles in over a year, hadn’t had the time to dedicate, but being around Sam always brought the familiar itch to his fingertips, the urge to pick up a pencil and get lost intentionally in the muse. Steve wasn’t sure if he would ever get to the point where he felt safe enough to verbalize such a thing but he could, at least, acknowledge it in the safety of his mind.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, what sort of response he should have. Steve had no idea where in their slowly developing dynamic this was supposed to fall. But he knew that he couldn’t just do nothing, either. He wasn’t the greatest at being comforting -- even the kids knew that -- but that didn’t keep him from trying, as awkward and insufficient as he generally felt.

Anxiously, he reached across the short space between them, his hand coming to land gently on Sam’s back. He froze when Sam stiffened initially at the touch, but let his hand run hesitant strokes up and down Sam’s back when the tension faded as quickly as it had arrived. After a long, awkward moment, Sam sighed quietly and leaned a little heavier into the contact. 

“Want to talk about it?” Steve asked hesitantly. He wished that working with sometimes emotional teenagers on a daily basis might have helped make him considerably less awkward during times like this. It hadn’t. He might have some awareness of the types of things that helped, but he still wasn’t entirely confident in his abilities to  _ not _ make things worse, even if only just by being present. Steve felt like he had a knack for that, unfortunately.

Sam was quiet for a moment and then sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Just a rough day,” he answered eventually. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Steve responded, edging his chair a couple inches closer, unable to resist the urge to get nearer. He wished he had the courage to draw Sam in for a proper hug. Would Sam even be receptive for such a thing? Knowing Steve’s luck, that would fall under his usual knack for making things worse. No, it was better to keep his attempts at comfort simple. He fished around for something to talk about, something to distract Sam from his obviously heavy thoughts.

“Hungry?” he blurted out.

Sam eyed him in confusion for a moment, but shrugged again, “I could eat. What were you thinking?”

“That diner up the road that the kids seem to like?” Steve suggested, inwardly cringing as he ran and reran the numbers for his budget. He could make it work, somehow.

There was a long moment where Sam didn’t respond, instead Steve could feel his ears heating as those dark eyes that he’d been spending months doing his damnedest to avoid getting lost in studied him intently. Sam quirked a small half-smile but shook his head, “Nah. I’m good.”

“You sure?” Steve frowned, unsure how to take the response. “I haven’t been, but even Buck and Nat have said it’s pretty good.”

Sam paused and then tilted his head consideringly, “Alright. We can go but I buy.”

“That’s not necessary, Sam,” Steve rushed to assure him. He inwardly cringed at the idea of taking advantage of someone’s -- especially Sam’s -- kindness like that. It might be tight, but Steve could manage to cover his own when Sam was wanting the company.

“I didn’t say that it was,” Sam countered, that half-smile reappearing a little more genuinely than the last. “Just that if we go to that little diner, I’m buying.”

Steve swallowed thickly but reluctantly nodded in agreement, “If that’s what you want.”

Sam nodded to the stack of papers strewn across the desk, “Need to finish anything up?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until morning,” Steve shrugged. A few that he would have to make sure he got to first thing the next morning, but this felt more important. For whatever reason, Sam had come  _ here _ when he had a rough day. Steve was sure that he could have found Nat or one of his other teammates much more easily, but he’d gone through the hassle of crossing the city to come to the Center--late enough that nearly no one else but Steve would have been there--because he was feeling rough. 

Steve knew that it wasn’t exactly good to feel pleased at the situation. But he wasn’t taking pleasure from Sam’s upset, just that Sam had--for whatever reason--come to  _ him _ during it. He didn’t need Bucky or Nat’s needling to understand why it left him tingling. Despite their teasing, he wasn’t entirely clueless to the growing fondness and affection for Sam. It was inappropriate and he knew that. He wouldn’t allow himself to act on any of it, he respected Sam far too much for that, and the last thing he wanted was to make Sam uncomfortable at the Center.

Sam pushed to his feet, drawing Steve from his wandering thoughts. Steve scrambled from his own chair, slightly embarrassed by getting so lost in the thoughts as he had and hoping that Sam at least hadn’t been able to see where his mind had gone. He forced down his wariness and avoided meeting Sam’s eyes, busying himself with organizing the paperwork for an easier start in the morning. 

“Ready?” he asked with a nervous smile when he finished straightening the stacks. 

“Sure,” Sam agreed easily. Steve nodded and moved toward the office door, only to be stopped half-way by a warm grip around his wrist. Steve blinked in confusion, eyes dropping to find Sam’s fingers curled lightly but firmly around his wrist. His brows furrowed as he lifted his gaze to meet Sam’s curiously. 

Sam seemed to waver for a second before using the careful hold to tug Steve closer. Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting, his mind unable to keep up and make connections to what was happening around him. To say that it was a surprise when strong arms folded around his shoulders and hugged him tightly was an understatement, and Steve couldn’t quite stifle the surprised hitch in his breathing.

Hesitant and ready to withdraw at the first sign of discomfort, Steve tentatively raised his arms to coil around Sam’s waist to return the embrace. He allowed his hands to start stroking carefully up and down Sam’s back, offering whatever comfort from the gesture that Sam might want or need. He didn’t let his mind linger on how much the hug seemed to tug deep in his chest or how good it felt or how, somehow, his own stress suddenly didn’t seem as big of a hindrance as it normally did. It wasn’t for him and that was okay, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Steve found a small sense of comfort in the hug as well.

Steve stilled his hands and let his hold tighten, feeling Sam’s torso expand and relax as he drew a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Steve smiled despite himself when the sigh seemed to be at least a little lighter and a little less weary than it had previously. “Come on,” Steve said quietly, tilting his head back far enough to leave the words unmuffled by Sam’s shirt. “Let’s get you some food.”

Sam nodded and withdrew only partially, keeping one arm across Steve’s shoulders for a moment longer before pulling away entirely. Steve tried not to miss the comfortable weight as he withdrew as well, shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid the urge to reach out and touch again. They didn’t speak as Steve did a quick walkthrough of the facility before he started turning off lights and they headed toward the doors. Sam waited patiently as he double-checked the emergency doors and then locked the front doors while they stood out on the sidewalk.

“Ever think of adding more security to this place?” Sam asked curiously as they walked the few blocks to the diner. 

“It’s on the list,” Steve said with a resigned shrug. “Most decent security systems are a little bit beyond budget at the moment though. I didn’t realize how expensive they were until I started researching them.”

“We could always put the tech team on it,” Sam said, referencing the group of kids that Tony had been mentoring when he had the time to stop by. “At this point, anything they build is probably going to be better than anything you can get on the market.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said with a grimace. “It’s one thing for them to work on the computers and the robots and the stuff like that. The things that are actually for them. I’m not sure that I’m comfortable asking them to build things that aren’t really their responsibility.”

“I get that,” Sam nodded. “I think they’d get a kick out of being able to give something back to the Center. Another aspect where they’ve got the ability to keep it theirs. But I do get what you mean. It’s hard to ask them to protect their safe place when it’s our responsibility to keep it their safe place, not theirs.” 

Steve bit down on his cheek to keep from smiling dopily at the reference to it being ‘our’ responsibility, even as a small glimmer of overprotectiveness tried to wedge into his mind and insist that, no, it was in fact  _ Steve’s _ responsibility. He knew, though, that all of them took their responsibilities to the kids and to the Center itself seriously. He pushed the conflicting thoughts away as they approached the diner, lengthening his stride a few steps ahead to tug the door open.

Sam smiled an odd smile, but didn’t say a word as he preceded Steve into the small restaurant and then led the way to a table in the back corner when the waitress bade them to sit where they wanted. It wasn’t until a little later, once their orders had been placed and an almost awkward silence fell between them, that Steve realized that it was the first time they had really spent any time together outside of the Center.

“Working on anything interesting?” Sam asked curiously, obviously as uncertain as Steve felt about the change in their dynamic.

“Not really,” Steve said. “You would be surprised by how much paperwork is involved in keeping the center up and running. There would be a whole lot more if we relied on funding or government assistance.”

“The Center doesn’t run on any sort of assistance?” Sam asked, surprise evident in his words and expression.

“No,” Steve replied. “I- uh- when I started the place, the goal’s always been to stay self-sufficient. It’s not always the easiest route to take, but it’s been worth it.” 

“It’s impressive,” Sam nodded. “Not many people would have the dedication to do it without assistance for this long.”

“It’s the right thing to do for those kids,” Steve shrugged. “I mean, it’s rough sometimes, and I know some of the funded places have better equipment, better buildings and everything, but I think we do well with what we’ve got.”

Sam nodded in understanding, falling silent as their meals were placed in front of them. When the waitress was gone again, he shifted the conversation away from the Center and to Steve’s pleasant surprise, they just talked. He got the opportunity to learn more about Sam than what could be gleaned from their previous conversations, most of which always seemed to involve the Center, the kids, or the Avengers. Their conversations that night, sitting across from one another in the little diner, were just Sam and Steve. 

“I was pararescue,” Sam explained at one point. “It was good. Being able to dive in where other rescue operations weren’t really suited. I think I was glad to come back home though.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Steve asked, recognizing a similar tone that Bucky used during the rare times where he would discuss his final tour. Steve knew that he didn’t have the specific experience to fully empathize what either Sam or Bucky might have gone through, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t acknowledge their experiences. Sam winced and avoided his eyes for a moment, another tell that Bucky also seemed to carry with him when conversation struck close to a loss. Steve winced, “You don’t have to answer that. I was only asking.”

“No, you’re fine,” Sam said with a small but pained smile. He frowned then, and pushed his food around the plate for a moment before sighing. “It was supposed to be a pretty straightforward Op. I mean, it’s never as simple as that but, basically, it went from bad to worse real quick. Riley was my wing man. We ran dozens of these things together, and that one shouldn’t have been any different.”

Steve set his utensils aside for the moment, giving Sam his full attention. He knew that he didn’t have the background to fully grasp some of the finer details, not like another vet like Bucky might, but it was something significant, something that shaped the man sitting across from him. He didn’t have to share the same background to acknowledge and respect the experience, or to understand the way the experiences would have affected Sam.

Sam shook his head as though shaking away the clinging memory, “He- uh- We lost him that Op. Got shot down, and there wasn’t really anything that I could do but watch it happen.” He fell silent for a moment, and then huffed a bitter laugh that made Steve’s chest ache at the obvious pain in the sound. “You know, that should be the worst part. I guess in a way it is, but after…after that was the investigation. There’s always an investigation when something goes sideways. The constant grilling though? Like somehow I was the one that shot him down? Or was trying to claim some sort of gain from what happened? The things they asked, the way some of those things were asked? I don’t know that you’d believe it if I told you.” 

He shrugged and looked back across the table to Steve with a weary expression, “I rode out the last of my time, kept my head down and pushed through the investigation, and then I came home. Didn’t have it in me to keep fighting that particular battle.”

Steve hesitated for a brief moment, and slowly reached across the table to rest his hand on Sam’s, “I’m sorry, Sam. I know that I can’t really begin to understand a lot of what you went through. It takes a lot to realize that you’ve had enough, though.”

Sam smiled faintly, “At that point, I don’t think there was much other choice. The whole thing messed me up.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve said with a small smile. “I think an experience like that would go a long way in messing anyone up.”

“I spent a lot of time at the VA,” Sam said. “Working through a lot of the stuff that I brought home with me. Still have good days and bad days, but I’m a lot better off than I was when I first came back. Turned around and worked at the VA helping others that were in the same way. When I moved up here from DC after, you know the shield and everything, I still go to the New York branches sometimes.”

“Was this one of the bad days?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Not the worst I get sometimes, but yeah, today’s definitely not been one of the better days,” Sam admitted.

Steve nodded in understanding, but didn’t press the matter further. While it wasn’t exactly the same, he knew how grating it was when Bucky kept digging when Steve was having one of his own brand of bad days. He gave Sam’s hand a squeeze, smiling softly when it was returned, before pulling back and retaking his fork in hand. “Aside from Avenging, the Center and the VA, what kinds of things do you usually do?”

The smile that Sam sent then was tinged with enough relief to let Steve know that he was right in switching the topic. Sam settled back into his seat and returned to his food as well, letting the conversation drift and float from topic to topic. They didn’t touch back on Sam’s service time, and didn’t do more than a glancing touch on Steve’s health, but there still seemed to be no shortage of things for them to talk about. 

By the time they finished their plates, Steve was relieved to notice that the lingering tension in Sam’s shoulders had eased considerably and he was back to smiling that warm, full grin that Steve had become so familiar with. As happy as it was to see its return, it certainly didn’t help Steve to hold onto his earlier decision to keep everything strictly friendly. Sam would grin and Steve couldn’t help but return it, and self-conscious that he was, probably flushing visibly each time. Tellingly, if the softening edges of that grin was anything to go by.

He bit back his automatic protests when Sam shot him a slightly reproachful glare as he paid for their dinner. He had to work a little harder to force down the thought that it felt almost like a date -- not that Steve had a whole lot of experience with that sort of thing, especially not lately. Steve didn’t let his mind linger on how he almost wished that it  _ was _ a date either. He shoved all of that aside as he quietly followed Sam out of the diner.

Out on the sidewalk, they fell into step easily. Steve wasn’t entirely sure where they were going, nor was he entirely sure that it actually mattered. He hadn’t taken much one-on-one time with Sam up until this point, and couldn’t help but feel like he had been denying himself something so very important with that oversight. Suffice to say, he wasn’t eager to part ways just yet.

“What’s on your mind?” Sam asked curiously as they walked.

Steve shrugged. “Just glad you came by,” he answered quietly. 

“Yeah?” Sam said, head tilted with a tentative, almost hopeful smile.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, returning the smile with one of his own. “Much better evening than the one I had planned.” 

“Same,” Sam agreed, raising one arm to rest across Steve’s shoulders, tugging him just slightly closer. Steve blinked in surprise, both at the gesture itself and how comfortable and natural it somehow managed to feel. His heart skipped in a way that he knew had nothing to do with his health and everything to do with the man beside him.

They came to a stop back in front of the Center and Steve found himself itching to slip his arms around Sam’s waist again, stealing another warm hug. He didn’t, he wasn’t sure he had it in him to initiate the contact unprompted. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted it. That silent admission nearly had him jerking away from Sam, and he only just managed to stop his knee-jerk response. Sam didn’t deserve potentially hurt feelings, because Steve knew better than to let himself be selfish and greedy for affection that wasn’t his to have.

To his surprise, the arm around his shoulders shifted slightly, pulling him in into the hug that Steve had just been considering. He didn’t let himself hesitate, his arms wrapping snugly around Sam’s waist and turning his head to rest against Sam’s chest, as Sam’s arms tightened around his shoulders and his cheek pressed against the top of Steve’s head.

“Thank you,” Sam said quietly after a quiet moment.

“For what?” Steve asked in confusion.

He could feel Sam shrug slightly against him. “Helping get me out of my head, I guess,” Sam answered. “Wasn’t sure if it was okay for me to show up like that.”

Steve chuckled and tilted his head back enough to meet Sam’s eyes evenly, “It’s always okay for you to show up. Good mood not required. Wanna come keep me company?”

Sam didn’t answer right away, studying him with an intensity that made Steve force down the urge to squirm. “Keep you company for what?” he asked.

“Figured I’d head back in and knock out a few things,” Steve shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind it if you want to stick around a while longer.”

Sam’s arms loosened from around his shoulders but before he could think to miss it, broad hands swept down his back to his waist, drawing a shiver that Steve wasn’t quite quick enough to suppress. Sam smiled that odd smile from earlier again, like his warm grin yet softened somehow, and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Excuse me, are you Steve Rogers?” a blond woman asked, giving him a curious once over when Steve turned to face her.
> 
> “S’pose that depends on who you are and what you want,” Steve said warily. Why? Why today? Any other day of the week would have been better than this. Was it really too much to ask for people to leave him alone? Just for today? Just long enough for him to at least try to get his mind settled?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday and welcome back!
> 
> So we're just shy of the half-way point, chapter-wise and it is my pleasure to inform you that the next few chapters is where things start heating up and getting a little bit dicey. That's your fair warning ;) . 
> 
> Anyway! I hope that you enjoy it!

Sam felt a rush of concern wash over him as he approached the Center and found Joey sporting another rapidly-blooming shiner with a protective arm across a girl’s shoulders -- Amelia, by the dark auburn hair -- hugging her much smaller frame against his own. As Sam drew closer, he could see the familiar angry jut of Joey’s jaw and the slight tremble in Amelia’s shoulders. He picked up his pace and nearly jogged the last few feet.

“What happened?” he asked worriedly, mindful of his tone. Inadvertently coming across as accusatory wasn’t going to help anything, not with Joey clearly itching for a fight.

Joey opened his mouth to speak but then looked down at Amelia with a grimace, and his mouth snapped shut again. He gave Sam an apologetic smile, and Sam nodded in understanding. If he was going to get any answers, they would have to come from Amelia.

“Amelia?” Sam said gently. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she answered shakily. “Not-not really.”

“Okay, I’m not going to press for answers that you don’t want to give, Sunshine,” Sam said. “But I do need to know that you’re okay. I’m talkin’ specifically physical, you don’t need to worry about telling me anything beyond that.”

Suddenly, the trembling in her shoulders began to shake harder and the girl began to cry in earnest. Joey shot him a terrified, wide-eyed look that in any other situation Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep from laughing at. Instead, he kept his focus on Amelia.

“Amelia,” Sam said quietly, doing his best to keep his growing concern out of his voice. Before he could say another word, Amelia shifted abruptly away from Joey, her small arms wrapping around Sam’s waist as she cried against his chest. Sam hesitantly lifted his hands and rubbed her back gently, unsure what contact would potentially make the situation worse. He glanced over her head and met Joey’s anxious stare.

“I swung first,” Joey blurted out defiantly. “I hit first but only because he was hurting her.”

“I understand,” Sam said easily. “I’m not mad, Joey. Can you go get Nat for me please? And then see if James or Steve is available to help you take care of that.” Joey winced at the second direction, and Sam caught his attention before he turned away. “Send them my way if they try to start their yelling,” he added. Joey gave him a tentatively relieved smile and rushed into the Center.

When he was gone, Sam carefully urged Amelia back a step, biting back questions at the sight of reddened patches on both her upper arms that he was almost certain were made by a man’s hands. He knew he wasn’t the person for those questions. He put that aside for the moment. 

“Amelia, can you look at me?” Sam requested, and she sniffled slightly but tilted her face upward. “You’re safe now, okay? I’m not going to press. I’m not going to try and get you to talk about it. But right now, you’re safe.”

She nodded and exhaled heavily. “Yeah. Yeah I know. I-I’m just glad Joey was there when he was. For once, I’m glad for his tendency to jump in fists first,” she said with a wet laugh.

Sam smiled, keeping an arm around her shoulders comfortingly, “He’s got his heart in the right place.” He glanced up at the sight of movement and met Natasha’s concerned eyes. Using the light hold on Amelia’s shoulder, Sam guided her forward. “Here, why don’t you go with Nat for now,” he said quietly. “I need to go make sure James and Steve haven’t started trying to chew Joey out yet.”

Amelia gave another small laugh, but nodded in agreement, hugging him before dropping her arms and moving into Natasha’s careful hug. Sam opened the door to the Center and let them go ahead of him. When Natasha led her out of sight, Sam switched directions and found James, Steve, and Joey sitting in tense silence.

“Is she okay?” Joey asked as soon as Sam walked into the room.

“She’s with Nat,” Sam answered, dropping wearily into the open chair next to Steve, taking some small comfort from the closeness despite the situation. “Think she’s a bit rattled, but Amelia’s a strong woman. She’ll be alright.”

“What happened?” James asked, tone chilly yet firm.

Joey winced and shot Sam a look for assistance. Sam sighed, “Joey came upon some guy grabbing Amelia. Best I can tell from the shape his hands are in, he got a couple good hits in and got Amelia back here, where I found them. Any more details than that are gonna have to come from Amelia.”

James was clearly unhappy with the minimal information and opened his mouth to argue, but Steve cut him off, “Buck. Leave it. If Amelia’s going to talk to anyone, it’s gonna be Nat. We need to respect that just like we’ve respected everything else.”

“It’s one thing to respect and accept that she’s got very particular boundaries,” James said. “It’s another to know that there’s some shithead out there putting their hands on one of these kids. I’m supposed to just be cool with having our hands tied like this?”

Sam snorted in amusement and shook his head when James shot him a dirty look. “You don’t want to hear it, but the best possible person that Amelia could possibly tell any of this to is the person that’s in the room with her right now.”

“Oh,” Joey said suddenly, eyes widening in realization, and then began laughing almost hysterically. “Oh yeah, that asshole just pissed off the Black Widow!”

“Language, Joey,” Steve sighed, though he also seemed to be fighting back some amusement amid his minor scolding. He tipped sideways just enough to lean against Sam’s shoulder, and Sam settled more comfortably into his chair knowing that despite the injected humor, they were all still awaiting word from Natasha.

“Oh hell,” James groaned. “I’d forgotten about that. You make a good point, Sam. I’d be willing to buy tickets to that show.”

* * *

“Excuse me, are you Steve Rogers?” a blond woman asked, giving him a curious once over when Steve turned to face her.

“S’pose that depends on who you are and what you want,” Steve said warily. Why? Why today? Any other day of the week would have been better than this. Was it really too much to ask for people to leave him alone? Just for today? Just long enough for him to at least  _ try  _ to get his mind settled?

“Tracy Bower with WHIH Newsfront,” She said in introduction, her voice taking on that almost sickeningly sweet type of reporter tone that had always made Steve’s skin crawl and his irritation spike even when he wasn’t already annoyed. “I’m doing a story on the Avengers, and there’s been word that a few of them have shown interest in your little place here. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk with me about that.”

Steve studied her blankly for a moment, feeling irritation begin to simmer fully. ‘Little Place’? While there wasn’t that particular tone of disdain that he had heard more than once in the past in regards to the Center, the dismissive words certainly seemed to imply it. It probably didn’t help matters that he was running on fumes, having missed lunch for a soul-sucking doctor’s appointment that he had been avoiding for months. Or that said soul-sucking doctor’s appointment meant getting news and information that he really hadn’t wanted to hear despite kinda already knowing it anyway. 

Must just be his day. 

It was a challenge to keep his tone and words mostly on this side of polite, but he somehow managed it. “I apologize for wasting your time Ms. Bower, but I have no interest in speaking to any member of the press. About the Avengers or otherwise.”

He turned away again, not wanting to give the woman reason to think that he might change his mind. “What about the generous anonymous donations that this Center has received recently?” She called after him in an obnoxiously knowing tone. “Anything to say on that?”

“Nope,” Steve said crisply, without bothering to so much as pass a glance over his shoulder.

“If you’re not interested in talking, what about the children? I’d like to know what their thoughts are.”

Steve immediately spun back around, fury nearly overwhelming him as soon as the words registered, “This Center is private property, and you are not welcome. I suggest you leave. Now. And if I catch you harassing any one of those kids, who may I remind you are  _ minors _ under  _ my _ care, so help me.”

“You might want to do something about that temper, Steve,” the woman smirked, unruffled. She plucked a business card from her pocket and studiously ignored the furious warning glare as she dropped it into his shirt pocket. “If you change your mind. Call me.”

Steve stayed where he was for a long moment, glaring after her as she climbed back into her car. When he was certain that she had actually left, he turned back to the center, shoving through the doors angrily. The kids couldn’t see him like this, he needed just a few minutes to settle his temper before trying to interact with them. 

When the door to his office closed behind him, he slumped back against it with an irritated huff. What the hell. Steve had never applied for grants or assistance with keeping up the Center. It was almost entirely self-sustaining; Steve had done everything that he could to ensure that these kids would never have to rely on the government being more or less generous from year to year. That these doors wouldn’t close down and leave them with nowhere safe to go. 

Sure, he had noticed an uptick in donations in the last few months, but he hadn’t touched them. He wouldn’t either, not if he had any other option available to him. And if he  _ did _ end up using the donations, it would go to the same thing every donation that had ever been given had: right back to the kids. Supplies, food, whatever else they needed at any given time. It wasn’t the donor’s responsibility to keep the lights on and water running. That was Steve’s responsibility, and one that he took seriously.

He had built this place nearly from the ground up. His mother had been for the kids in Steve’s neighborhood growing up what this Center was for these kids. A safe place. Solid meals. Homework help, and an ear to listen when things were shit. Even when she was utterly exhausted from the long hours required at the hospital, every kid in the neighborhood had known that Sarah Rogers would be there for them, regardless of who it was. Steve had taken what money Sarah had left when she passed and started the Center, determined to carry on what had been such an important role to her.

He had taken a couple loans over the years to make sure that it stayed open and things had been undeniably rough a couple of times, but he did it. And he did a damned good job. He put every goddamned thing he had into it, personally and financially. Bucky helped where he could from the beginning, having been one of the many neighborhood kids that Sarah Rogers had helped throughout the years, and had been an amazing support system during more than a few rough patches. There was a lot still though that even Bucky didn’t know, things Steve had worked through on his own while Bucky was deployed during the first few years of the Center’s existence.

A knock on the office door reverberated right beneath where his head rested, and Steve forced back a groan. Five minutes. That’s all he needed. Just  _ five minutes. _ He still wasn’t in the best of shape for visitors and he knew that, but he had made a point to always be available to the kids if they needed anything. He sighed softly and turned to pull the door open, only for the anger to rush back to the surface when he found himself face-to-face with Sam.

The smile that the man wore, that bright warm grin that Steve normally loved but currently just grated, quickly faded when Sam caught sight of Steve’s angry scowl. His eyes widened, and his friendly posture immediately changed to the one Steve had seen from the many articles the kids would show him of the Avengers in battle.

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked carefully.

“No,” Steve said shortly and then shook his head, doing his best to cling to the fraying ends of his control on his temper. God, he wished Sam hadn’t been the one to come seek him out. There was no way this was going to end well. “This really isn’t a good time, Sam. Please.”

“Anything I can help with?” Sam pressed further, tone gentling into concern. 

Well. He asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Better,” Josh admitted hesitantly after taking a moment to settle on a descriptor. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”
> 
> “No more apologies for that,” Sam said firmly. “You being okay is far more important to me than listening to Stark and Banner argue in what they keep sayin’ is English, but I’m not entirely convinced.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday and Happy October!
> 
> So, here we are again and like I mentioned last week, these next few chapters are a bit of a doozy.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy!

“Stop with the games, for one,” Steve said sharply, as the last hold on his mental control snapped abruptly, feeling like he was drowning in the helpless, hopeless rage that he had spent  _ months _ if not years forcing down and away. Sam’s expression went straight to confusion. 

“This might be a closed door discussion, don’t you think?” Sam advised, slipping past Steve and into the office while Steve shut the door firmly behind him. He studied Steve warily but intently before speaking again. “Now, you wanna tell me what games I’m supposedly playing?”

“The ‘donations’, the goddamned reporters wanting to harass the kids, playin’ around like you actually give a damn,” Steve snarled angrily. “They’re not gonna be a part of your image. We’ve been doing just fine without the pity money, and we’ll do fine without it now too.”

“Hold on,” Sam scowled. “My  _ image? _ What the hell are you talking about? I’m not here for an image any more than Natasha is.”

“Right,” Steve snorted. “Because it’s not picture perfect to have Captain America humbling himself with a bunch of kids.”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” Sam spat back. “I don’t give a shit what PR wants from Captain America. The donation didn’t come from Captain America. Hell, the donation didn’t even just come from plain ol’ Sam either. Stark was pretty happy to meet my donation.”

“I don’t need your charity,” Steve spat, vaguely aware that his entire body seemed to be shaking but unable to pull back from the rage that seemed to be consuming him entirely. “I sure as hell don’t need to be Stark’s charity case. I’ve handled it on my own well before you or Nat or even Bucky came into the picture.”

“No?” Sam asked coolly. “You sure about that? Cause I know the signs, Steve. Watched my mama do the same damn thing for the kids in her school as you do for these kids. Every penny you make that can be spared gets put right back into this place, doesn’t it? How often have you skipped things that  _ you _ need and  _ you _ deserve to make sure that these kids don’t have to want for anything? How much have you neglected  _ your health _ because this place needs something that can’t wait?” 

“That’s really not your business,” Steve retorted defensively, unable to bring himself to back down even as the truths struck home and the room started trying to spin around him. 

Sam shrugged off the rebuttal and took a half-step closer, expression taking on something considerably harsher, “And don’t think I missed that cheap shot at Tony, Steve. That man’s done a lot for these kids and you damn well know it. He didn’t have to come here. He didn’t have to spend his time teaching them how to build computers and robots. He did it because we asked, and because they deserved the opportunity. You were eager enough to accept that while he was here, don’t go spitting on it now just because something’s got you pissed off.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” Steve shot back. “I run this place, not you. This isn’t a game, Sam. They’re not pawns, they’re not potentials for whatever braintank Stark’s eyeing them for. They’re sure as hell not recruits for your  _ team.” _

Sam snorted and shook his head, a disbelieving smile on his face, “You’re a piece of work, you know that? I came here because Nat offered. I kept coming here because I believe in the work you’re doing here and I believe in those kids. I believe in  _ you. _ This name…this  _ mantle _ really doesn't mean a goddamned thing if I can't actually do some good with it. Something beyond the fight. I'm  _ trying _ here, Steve, to be more than that goddamned shield.

“And maybe that’s not good enough for you,” Sam said, face twisting into a dismissive sneer. “So you know what? Fine, I’m done. You very clearly don’t want me here, no matter how damn hard I try, and that’s your business and I’ll respect that. ‘Cause my mama taught me a thing or two about respect and picking your battles. So you win, Steve. But that money could do a hell of a lot for those kids. And that pride of yours? It’s not just hurting you. Take it or leave it, Steve. I’m gone.”

Sam froze for a brief moment when he opened the door to find Bucky reaching for the door knob at the same time that Sam swung it open. “James,” Sam greeted tightly before pushing past and swiftly making his exit.

“Steve,” Bucky said cautiously. “What the hell was that?”

“Fucking asshole,” Steve seethed. Frankly, he wasn’t quite sure who he was referring to anymore; Sam, Bucky, or himself. He didn’t understand it. Usually he could disappear into his office for a breather with no problems, why the  _ hell _ was everyone so insistent on getting on his case today of all days?

“Figured out where the donations came from then?” Bucky asked, dropping into one of the chairs. “That man’s got it bad for you.”

“Right,” Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s why there’s reporters tryin’ to camp out.”

“Pretty sure that’s not something he can exactly help, is it?” Bucky asked pointedly. “So what did you say to him that had him bolting like that?”

“Just made sure that he knew these kids weren’t gonna be a part of some PR image campaign,” Steve said crisply, though he could feel the tightly wound anger and hostility beginning to ease it’s deathgrip on him. It left the room spinning more sharply and him more bone-deep exhausted than anything. The shaking hadn’t eased either but he refused to acknowledge it. 

Bucky groaned, “Tell me you didn’t really say that. Of course you did. Fucking idiot.”

“I’m not the idiot, Buck!”

“Well, one of us in this room sure the hell is, and it ain’t me,” Bucky shot back. “Have you not watched the man with those kids? And you better answer in the affirmative, because I’ve watched you watching him.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“That  _ is _ the point, Steve!” Bucky scowled. “Why do you gotta be such a dick when someone wants to do something nice for you? Why do you have such a shit time accepting help?”

“I don’t need help,” Steve insisted wearily. “I’ve had it handled for this long. That hasn’t changed just because Captain America decided to pick up a pet project.”

“I don’t know why I bother,” Bucky huffed and pushed out of the chair, shaking his head as he left the office. “When you get that head of yours out of your ass, you let me know.”

Steve dropped with a sigh into his own chair, glaring at the ever growing stack of paperwork in the center of his desk. He ignored the floating spots and the odd echoing in his ears, knowing they would probably fade soon enough now that he had a moment to sit and let his body calm. Almost absently, he rolled his head against the back of the chair to stare out the window instead. He had always liked that the view gave him the opportunity to see who was coming and going from the Center before having to actually talk with them. 

But it was a curious benefit as he watched Sam pause mid-step and then drop onto the ground beside Joshua without a second thought. He didn’t pay much attention to it considering the pounding in his head and the spots in his vision quickly took over, pulling him under before he could even attempt to stubbornly push through it.

At least he’d made it to his chair.

* * *

Sam worked to reign in his anger as he pushed through the doors. His image. What the hell. Had that shit come from Steve early on, Sam wouldn’t have taken it so personally. But they’d gotten close, hadn’t they? How could Steve really think that he was sticking around the Center, around  _ Steve, _ because of his  _ image? _ He scoffed irritably and shook his head, only to pause mid-motion when he caught sight of Joshua sitting on the ground, leaning against the building despondently. His anger was promptly shoved to the back of his mind and replaced with concern. He carefully dropped down next to the boy with a sigh.

“Hey,” Sam greeted quietly.

“Hey,” Josh echoed glumly, not bothering to lift his eyes from where his fingers were slowly twisting together, propped on top of his bent knees.

While Josh had never been the most chatty of the group, the subdued response was unusual enough to be concerning. Sam shifted on the concrete, nudging the boy’s shoulder gently with his own. “What’s going on, kid?” He prodded.

“I didn’t get in,” he admitted with a quiet sigh after a long moment of silence.

Didn’t get -  _ oh _ . Sam winced sympathetically and sighed, “That really sucks. Which one?”

“Columbia.” 

“Damn,” Sam sighed. He felt for the kid. Sam knew how much time and effort Josh had put into, not only his applications, but his schoolwork and grades to try to ensure that he would be accepted into one of the universities that he had applied to. “Have you heard anything back on any of your other applications?”

“No, not yet,” Josh admitted wearily. His despondent expression twisted further into resignation and he shrugged. “They’ll probably be coming in soon, huh? Think it’ll be more of the same?”

“Nah,” Sam shook his head. “I think that you’re going to be surprised at what comes in. You’re a smart kid, and I have no doubt that they’re gonna see that. Don’t get discouraged just yet.” 

Josh nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced, and slumped slightly to the side until he was leaning against Sam’s shoulder. 

“That wasn’t your first choice school, was it?” Sam asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to recall previous conversations on the topic. He knew that Josh had submitted nearly a dozen applications in total, some local and some out of state. The boy had spoken at length about which schools his family had wanted him to attend but had kept relatively quiet on his own hopes and preferences.

“No, but it’s the one my parents really hoped I’d get into,” Josh frowned. “They’re going to be so disappointed. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I don’t think it comes down to anything you did wrong,” Sam assured him. “You definitely met their admissions requirements, after that it’s all up to whatever system the school uses to decide. And you know, maybe your folks will be disappointed. Maybe they’ll be upset for a bit. But even if they are, kid, it’ll pass. You’re smart and you’re going places, no matter which one of those schools you end up going to.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Josh huffed, clearly more than a little disbelievingly and then frowned curiously. “Were you leaving already?”

Sam nodded, forcing down the urge to wince at the reminder. “Yeah, got a couple things to take care of, but nothing too important.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you,” he winced guiltily. “I’m okay, just kinda bummed, you know?”

“I get it,” Sam said. “But you’re more important, the other stuff can wait till I get to it.”

“Avengers stuff?” Josh asked in the hesitant but curious way he had when he wasn’t sure if he was being too nosy.

“Something like that,” Sam answered noncommittally. “I don’t know if you know this, but there is an unbelievable amount of paperwork involved in the whole superhero-business.”

The statement startled a laugh out of Josh and Sam grinned, nudging his shoulder playfully against the boy’s. They settled in silence together for a stretch, just watching the foot traffic pass them by. Finally, Josh sighed again and spoke softly, “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime,” Sam responded immediately but fondly. “You still got my number right?”

“Yeah, I made sure to save it this time,” he grinned sheepishly. Sam had learned early on that Josh had a habit of typing a number into his phone and then closing out the screen before actually adding the number to his contacts. 

“Good,” Sam laughed and bumped their shoulders together again affectionately. “I wanna hear when those acceptance letters come in.”

“You don’t know that they’re going to be acceptance letters,” Josh said, rolling his eyes in amusement.

“Sure I do,” Sam smirked. “‘Cause I know you and I know that you put a lot of work into those applications. You’ve got this, kid.”

“If you say so.”

“I  _ do  _ say so,” Sam nudged him again. “How’re you doing?”

“Better,” Josh admitted hesitantly after taking a moment to settle on a descriptor. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“No more apologies for that,” Sam said firmly. “You being okay is far more important to me than listening to Stark and Banner argue in what they keep sayin’ is English, but I’m not entirely convinced.”

Josh huffed a small laugh of amusement, and Sam grinned. “I should get home. Mom’ll want to know about the letter.”

“Keep your chin up, kid,” Sam said, pushing himself to his feet and offering him a hand up, tugging him into a hug. “I have full belief that you’re going to amaze us all. College acceptance or no, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, I hope so,” Josh smiled shyly.

“I  _ know  _ so,” Sam grinned, feeling fondness for the boy down to his bones. Sam was grateful that he was able to raise Josh’s spirits just enough to get him smiling again. “Go on home, you got my number if you need anything. Anytime.”

Sam tensed and jerked, automatically pushing Josh behind him when the door beside them slammed open, interrupting the conversation. Sam relaxed minutely when he saw Amelia skid out onto the sidewalk, only to tense again when he saw the way she was shaking and the pale, an obviously rattled expression on her face. Sam quickly indicated for Josh to stay put where he was, and rushed forward to Amelia.

“Amelia, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently.

“James needs your help,” she said, clearly trying to stay calm and concise, but worried enough to struggle with it. Her small hands latched onto his arm and she tugged him back toward the door to the Center. “Steve passed out, and we’re having problems bringing him back around. James wants to get him to the hospital because of his heart problems.”

Sam hesitated for just a brief moment, still genuinely stung by the argument that he had just walked away from. But he knew that no matter how hurt or angry he was, now wasn’t the time to cling to it and be petty. He quickly gave into Amelia’s urging and darted back into the Center at a jog until he reached the office, using the short trip to pull up the battle persona that he hadn’t worn in this place in months.

“What happened?” Sam asked, coming around the desk to crouch next to where James had Steve carefully laid on the floor out of caution.

“Not sure,” James answered promptly but shakily. “You left, and I left a few minutes after. Wasn’t five minutes before Amelia came and got me.”

“What about before, where was he?” Sam prompted, trying to gain a clearer picture as he pressed his fingertips against the pulse point of Steve’s wrist, mentally counting off his heart rate. Way too slow.

“Doctor’s appointment, I think. He doesn’t tell me when or what for, anymore,” James sighed.

“Not the time for guilt,” Sam said gently but firmly. “Have you called for an ambulance?”

“No,” James admitted. “We’re not going to either. I’ll drive him, I just need help getting him to the car, I can’t lift him anymore.”

Sam wanted to argue the logic, but James leveled him with a flat glare that said he wouldn’t budge and wasn’t about to explain. He bit back a frustrated sigh and nodded, shifting his feet until he could carefully scoop his arms under Steve’s back and knees. With some careful maneuvering, Sam stood, frowning in concern that he half-wished that he could ignore at how light Steve was. Granted, he hadn’t expected to be lifting his own weight when lifting Steve’s slight frame, but considering he was unconscious, he should be heavier than this.

It wasn’t his business. Steve had made that crystal clear.

That didn’t seem to stop the concern and the worry from hooking into his chest at the fact that Steve still hadn’t woken up. He swallowed and pushed it aside for the moment, moving as quickly and steadily as he could, following James to the small parking lot at the back of the building. He settled Steve into the passenger seat and buckled the seatbelt around him, before stepping back and closing the door firmly. 

“Are you coming?” James asked as he opened the driver’s side door.

Sam wavered for a moment, glancing down at Steve and then back to James. “No, I’ll hang round here with these guys for now.”

James nodded and started to duck into the car before he paused again, “Look, Sam, I don’t know the specifics, but Steve--”

“Is unconscious in the passenger seat of your car and in need of medical attention,” Sam interrupted, unwilling to get into what had happened between him and Steve. 

“I’ll keep you updated,” James said, taking the dismissal in stride. Before Sam could say another word, James was starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. 

Sam stayed where he was for a moment, taking the opportunity to try to ground some of his spiraling thoughts and feelings. He wasn’t happy with Steve right now, not in the least, but Sam definitely hadn’t wanted this for him. Sam wondered how much his current condition played a part in their argument, and how much their argument played in his current condition. He supposed it really didn’t matter at that particular point in time.

Maybe eventually he and Steve could recover, but he wasn’t going to put himself out to be attacked again no matter the reason. Sam wasn’t entirely certain that thought process made a bit of sense. He shook his head with a sigh and went back inside the Center.

“Is he going to be alright?”

Sam jolted slightly in surprise, and then offered Joey a small smile, “Steve’s tougher than he looks.”

“Doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t give him problems,” Joey frowned.

“Is this something that’s happened before?” Sam asked curiously.

“No,” Joey answered promptly. “No, there’s been the asthma attacks and a couple times where his allergies gave him problems, but nothing like this.”

“James said he’d keep us updated,” Sam said reassuringly as he nudged Joey forward with a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. As they walked together back to the lounge area, Sam promised himself mentally that he would only stick around until he knew that they--both Steve and the kids--were going to be okay, and then he would stay true to his word and he’d leave. 

Maybe eventually he would be allowed to come back and they wouldn’t be too angry with him for leaving in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened ;)
> 
> See you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and Steve watched his posture sink in all-too-familiar relief. “Hey kid,” Bucky responded, and Steve huffed a weak laugh like he always did at the term. Neither of them had exactly been kids in some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I hope that your week has gone well and that everyone's as safe and healthy as you can be. That being said, another chapter is up and we're just over halfway through!
> 
> I hope that you enjoy!

Steve didn’t have to open his eyes to know where he was. The beeping near his ear was familiar enough that there was no doubt that he was in a hospital. What was less clear was why. He frowned in confusion as he willed his eyes to open and glanced around the small room. He immediately found Bucky in the chair beside his bed, staring at his hands but seeming to be looking through them rather than at them.

“Hey Buck,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and Steve watched his posture sink in all-too-familiar relief. “Hey kid,” Bucky responded, and Steve huffed a weak laugh like he always did at the term. Neither of them had exactly been kids in some time.

“So what’d I break this time?” Steve asked, mentally running through his body to see if he could feel anything outside of his normal pains and strains. He was surprisingly comfortable for the moment.

“Your heart, apparently,” Bucky answered, eyes dropping back to his hands. “Amelia found you. She went in to check on you after Sam and I left. You were passed out cold. She came and got me. I didn’t know how long you’ve been off the meds for your heart and the rest of it, so I knew I needed to bring you in to be safe.”

Steve nodded slowly, the pieces of his memory slotting back into place with Bucky’s words. He cringed and slumped back into the hospital bed. “Any idea how long they’re gonna keep me here?”

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, another familiar look--exasperation this time--painted very obviously over his face. “Easy, punk,” he chided. “You worked yourself into early heart failure.”

“Heart failure?” Steve repeated, blinking in surprise.

“That’s apparently what happens when you go off your meds and stop taking care of yourself,” Bucky said with pointed sarcasm. He huffed a sigh and ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “They said once you woke up they wanted to run a couple tests, once you were back with us a bit more. Get you on a better prescription.”

“I’m fine without it,” Steve insisted. “It was just a bad day, Buck.”

Bucky scowled and without giving Steve the opportunity to protest, reached out to flip back the lower edge of the thin blanket covering his legs, exposing his swollen feet. Generally, he was perfectly capable of keeping such things out of sight and, therefore, away from Bucky’s highly-critical judgement. Obviously, the things he had kept out of sight and out of mind were no longer hidden away. 

“How’s your breathing been, Steve?” Bucky asked pointedly. Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Bucky cut him off. “Were you ever gonna mention that your inhaler wasn’t working like it should?” He sighed and inched forward in his chair until he was seated right at the edge and closer to Steve. “What are you tryin’ to do to yourself, Stevie?”

“I’m just trying to keep everything afloat, Buck,” Steve sighed. “I blamed the breathing thing and the blood--”

“Blood?” Bucky interjected. “Sonofa--what else, Steve? For once in your life, be honest.”

“For once in my life, huh?” Steve huffed. “For the record, this interrogation thing that you’ve got going on? Not helping. I blamed the breathing and the blood on Oliver’s cat. Not like I can tell the kid we’ve got to get rid of it. So I’ve dealt with it.”

“How long?” Bucky asked.

“How long what?” Steve repeated wearily.

“How long have you known that something wasn’t right? How long have you been hiding how bad things are from all of us?” Bucky demanded.

“Does it really matter?” Steve asked, sinking further into the flat pillow. 

“Yes, Steve, it matters,” Bucky said, scowling once again.

“If it matters that much then, just maybe, you can wait till I’m out of this place?” Steve suggested.

“No, because we get out of here and you’re gonna be dead set on pretending that nothing ever happened,” Bucky countered. “I know you, Steve. I know how you work. Tell me, please. How long has this shit been happening?”

Steve sighed and turned his head back to neutral, where he could stare at the ceiling as he answered. “Maybe a few weeks? Today’s the first day that it hit hard though. I just figured it was stress.”

“A few weeks,” Bucky repeated with a groan.

“What the hell do you think I had an appointment this afternoon for?” Steve retorted. “Despite what you seem to believe, Buck, I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Bucky argued. “I think you’re reckless and careless with your health.”

“Whatever, Bucky,” Steve sighed, letting his eyes close and attempting to ignore the obnoxious beeping that was just loud enough to seem like it echoed through the room. The two men sat in stony silence for several long moments, and then Bucky exhaled heavily. Steve didn’t look, but he could feel the weight of Bucky’s arms crossing on the bed at his side, and then the additional dip when his head fell down against his forearms.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky said, tone heavy.

“What are you sorry for?” Steve asked. He doubted that Bucky was apologizing for the invasive questions and, considering that Bucky had been listed as his next of kin ever since his mother died, Steve supposed he couldn’t be entirely  _ too _ angry about that anyway. But as far as the earlier afternoon was concerned, it was him that should be apologizing for his foul mood.

“I was right there, and I knew you seemed off. I  _ knew  _ something wasn’t right, but I was so focused on being irritated that it didn’t register that something was actually happening,” Bucky sighed. “I know better than to leave you on your own like that.”

“It would’ve been worse had you stuck around, Buck,” Steve sighed. “At least with you leaving when you did I couldn’t burn anymore bridges.”

“Maybe,” Bucky shrugged. “But that could've been a lot worse. Especially since I know you haven’t been keeping up on your meds like you ought to. I could’ve taken whatever words you wanted to throw at me, but I ain’t ready to lose you yet.”

“I’m fine, Bucky,” Steve assured. “It was a rough day, and everything that’s been piling up decided that it was a good day to come crashing through. Not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal, Steve,” Bucky argued. “You’re not taking care of yourself. You mother hen the hell out of all of us. Me. Nat. And on down through all the kids. Every one of us. Why don’t you use some of that on yourself? Do you know how terrified Amelia was to find you like that? How terrified  _ I _ was?”

“Things have been tight lately, that’s all,” Steve said carefully. “I’m not trying to scare anyone.”

“That’s not the point,” Bucky sighed. “You’re killing yourself, Steve. You are literally destroying yourself. Your heart is  _ failing. _ And you’re not just doing yourself in physically, either. You’re taking on so much and stressing over so much that you’re destroying yourself mentally and emotionally. That’s not even counting what you’re doing to yourself socially. Please, Steve… I know you’ve got a thing against asking for help but that’s what I’m here for, punk.”

Steve was saved from having to respond by the nurse entering the room and greeting them with a pleasant smile. “Good to see you awake, Mr. Rogers. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty tired still,” he admitted reluctantly. “But that’s pretty much normal. Otherwise, I’m feeling okay.”

“Good,” she nodded with a small smile. “Now, your GP sent over the list of tests that he ordered for you from your appointment this afternoon. The doctors want to run those for you before we release you. We’ll make sure that all the results are forwarded so that they get added to your record. ”

Steve felt the same anxiety he always felt when his health was being discussed creeping into his mind. There had been a reason why he had avoided the majority of his doctors visits, and cut down on which of his meds he kept up on and which he let lapse, despite knowing the risks. He had no idea how he was going to manage to pay for this hospital visit, let alone whatever tests they wanted to run and the medications they wanted to switch him to.

“Easy, Stevie,” Bucky’s voice cut through the muddled storm of panic, his familiar hand holding onto Steve’s arm. Steve let the touch reground him, and focused on bringing his breathing back to normal. “Is there a way he can schedule those tests for another time?”

“We would prefer having them done while he’s already admitted,” the nurse said. “With early stages, like what we’re seeing here, we just want to make sure that there’s minimal progression from these early stages. We might be able to work around some that considering the goal right now is to keep Steve calm and discussing the tests is clearly doing the opposite, but I think that the doctors will want to run at least some of them so that they can get a better idea of where he’s at and what sort of treatment options are available. Let me go talk to the doctors, and I’ll be back to let you know what they suggest.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said politely.

Despite all recent evidence to the contrary, it seemed as though someone was actually looking out for him. The nurse had returned and taken a few vials of blood--the lab tests that his doctor had ordered previously--but, for the time being, he didn’t have to worry and stress over any additional testing. 

Heart Failure. God, he was a mess. Steve had known that with his existing heart problems, such a thing was a possibility. It was one of those things that the doctors had warned him about, but he generally didn’t put much stake into. Health conditions or no, he was still young. 

Much to his relief, once his vitals were stable and the blood draws were sent off to the lab, they seemed confident that there shouldn’t be more complications, and Steve was released--relatively--easily with several firm reminders from the nurse to follow-up with his regular doctor in two days time. 

Steve had wanted to go directly to the Center to check in with the kids. Since Bucky was with him all day, it was pretty obvious that everything had fallen onto Amelia’s shoulders far sooner than he had hoped. He had wanted to ease her into it, not just drop everything on her. 

Unsurprisingly, Bucky put his foot down. “Not happening, Stevie. You’re going home and you’re going to bed and you’re not going to do anything to end your ass up back in that hospital bed any time soon.”

It was two days of fiercely stern glares and a personal escort to his doctor’s office to get the results of the various blood tests before Bucky finally relented and agreed to let Steve head back to the Center. Steve dreaded to see what his email was going to look like when he finally managed to get to it. He did his best to ignore Bucky’s hovering, and apologized sincerely to Amelia both for having to be the one to find him like that and for dropping the responsibility of the Center into her lap unexpectedly.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said with a soft smile. “Gave us quite a scare, Steve.”

Guilt and anxiety and stress seemed to immediately refill the empty spots that his eruption and the good meds at the hospital had left wonderfully free. Steve felt a weight settle back across his shoulders and in the back of his mind unpleasantly. He knew that it was likely almost entirely in his mind, but the weight of it all seemed to twist something awful in his chest, and he suddenly believed what Bucky and the nurse had said about his heart trying to fail on him. 

He offered Amelia a small, forced smile. “Yeah. Yeah me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great weekend and I'll see you again next week <3 <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve couldn’t be certain if he was dealing with Natalie, Natasha, or the Widow at that particular moment, and the uncertainty chilled him more than he cared to admit. Her lips quirked upward in amusement, as though she read those discomforting thoughts right off of his face. Given who he was speaking to, that was very likely the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!!! I hope you've had a wonderful week this far and that you and yours are as safe and healthy as they can be. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy Chapter 10!

Steve pushed into his office with a sigh, the throbbing and dizzy spinning of his head not helped in the least by the loud chattering that echoed down the hall. He felt a little guilty leaving Bucky to handle them all, but it was either escape to his office for some peace, or inevitably turn into grouchy-wet-cat mode. Or worse. He knew now the sort of things that ‘worse’ consisted of. He tried to avoid making the kids deal with that particular aspect of his personality as often as he possibly could. Especially since they were all still worried about him following his visit to the hospital. 

He still felt undeniably guilty and regretful about that, too. Amelia was better at being unobtrusive with her hovering, but Steve had noticed it. He had also noticed Joey sticking a little closer to him when he wasn’t in the office. Hannah and Josh, too. He wondered if they weren’t wondering after the times they had helped him through his asthma attacks. Steve knew he had researched further into it since his hospitalization, and it made sense afterwards why his rescue inhaler only seemed to have worked half of the time.

He froze halfway through the doorway, hand still gripping the knob, and groaned. “Really not a good time, Natalie,” he said wearily. What was it about him feeling like shit that made for such a great opportunity to remind him about how terrible of a person he was? Seriously, it was starting to get old.

She looked up at him from where she was perched on the corner of his desk, file folder spread open in her lap as she slowly flipped through the pages. Knowing his file system as well as he did, Steve knew from even where he stood that it was the most recent financial statements for the Center. Suddenly his weariness morphed almost immediately to wariness.

“Pretty sure that cabinet was locked,” he pointed out as he circled the desk and dropped into his chair tiredly. He was really growing to hate how exhaustion seemed to cling down to his bones lately.

“It’s been a long time since a lock has meant anything to me.” Nat shrugged dismissively, turning her attention back to the paperwork in her hands.

“Usually, it’s considered good manners to respect the boundaries even if you are capable of getting through them,” Steve said.

“Usually, I would accept that advice on manners if they came from someone who had good manners themselves,” she countered easily. “Frankly, yours tend to be rather appalling.”

“I’m guessing either Sam or Bucky told on me, then?” Steve huffed. “That’s why you're here digging through things that really aren’t your business?”

“I haven’t talked to Sam since the last time he was here, actually,” Nat responded. “He’s taking care of some personal things. The team can manage without him, if need be. Why, is there something he ought to have told me?”

“No,” Steve replied easily. 

“Besides, Sam wouldn’t have to tell me anything in a building full of gossipers. James had no problems with sharing what he thought needed to be shared,” she said idly, and Steve was able to just see the slight smirk on her expression from the angle that she sat. 

“What does that have to do with my financial paperwork?” he asked pointedly. At least if she was digging into his finances, she might leave off of his health issues.

“Everything, apparently,” Nat said, turning where she sat to face him fully, her green eyes studying him intently. Steve couldn’t be certain if he was dealing with Natalie, Natasha, or the Widow at that particular moment, and the uncertainty chilled him more than he cared to admit. Her lips quirked upward in amusement, as though she read those discomforting thoughts right off of his face. Given who he was speaking to, that was very likely the case.

“It’s interesting,” she continued, dropping her gaze back to the stack of statements. “That you’ve literally got over a quarter million dollars sitting in this account, and it looks like the majority dates back over five years. I know for a fact that the majority of that wasn’t from Sam or Tony, but it doesn’t look like you’ve touched more than the couple hundred dollars it took to cover Katie, Joshua, and Ryan’s application fees. Yet there’s only a couple grand in the primary account. All of which was transferred directly from your personal savings. ”

“Do you have a point?” Steve asked in the blandest tone that he could muster under such blatant scrutiny.

“You’re wanting to hire Amelia. James is technically supposed to be paid staff, as are you,” she said thoughtfully. “Yet the only constant payroll I’m seeing here is James, and almost  _ half _ the amount James gets is being paid out to yourself. Only for the majority of  _ that  _ to be immediately transferred back into the account.”

“You could give my accountant a run for her money with such a thorough analysis, Natasha,” Steve bit out sarcastically. He was sure now that it wasn’t Natalie sitting on his desk -- this was purely everything he’d heard about Natasha Romanov. “I’m still waiting for a point to all of this, though.”

“You’re a jackass,” she said with a huff and an eyeroll. “My point is that I’m trying to figure out what you’re doing here, Steve. These donations could make a world of difference for this place if you would just let them.”

“We do well without dipping into that,” Steve shrugged. “We’re sufficient enough to be able to make sure the kids have what they need here. Those donations are only touched when they’re absolutely needed.”

“What about improving our technology here?” She asked. “Better computers outside of what Tony’s already done. More things for the workshop that James patchworked together for Jamie. Materials for your art kids. Even giving this place a simple facelift would be a boost for morale. Why are you so content with the bare minimum?”

“The bare minimum?” Steve repeated, staring at her for a long moment and scowling. “Is that really what you think I’m doing here? The bare fucking minimum?”

She shot him a dark glare, and her voice was warningly sharp, “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. Knock it off, Steve, I’m not indulging your incessant need for a fight that you won’t win.”

“Then once again, I’ll ask you to make your point,” he said coolly. He really didn’t have the energy for anger, not like what had erupted from him just days before, but her insinuations had certainly hit their mark.

“You are holding them and, more importantly for the sake of this discussion,  _ yourself _ back by ignoring these donations,” Natasha said frankly. “You’re doing yourself and everything that you’ve put into this place a disservice, and acting like an ungrateful shithead at the same time. All because of your pride.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, only for Natasha to override him entirely, and continued to speak in the same crisp manner, “Did you know that there’s three grand in your donation account from James?”

“What?” He asked, blinking in confusion.

Natasha hummed patronizingly, “Didn’t think so. What about the five  _ I _ put in there last December? For those kids? Did you pay attention to anything other than the word ‘donation’ when those funds came in? Did you happen to send Tony a politely worded thank-you note for his? What about Sam? Or did you expect it to go away if you just ignored it hard enough?”

She shook her head and sighed, closing the folder and setting it onto the desk beside her. After a moment of silence -- during which her rapid-fire onslaught of questions pinged loudly through his still-throbbing head -- Natasha shifted again until her legs hung from his side of the desk, right next to his chair, and she faced him fully. 

“Steve, listen to me,” she urged gently, waiting until he looked up to meet her eyes again before she continued. “You are a good man, and you do an amazing thing for those kids. It’s not a bad thing, it doesn’t make you  _ less, _ to accept the help that’s being freely given.” 

Her hand rose and combed affectionately through his hair, “When was the last time you did something to take care of yourself? Gone to the doctor without being forced? When’s the last time you had reliable access to those medications that we both know that you actually need? Or even something as mundane as buying yourself a pair of jeans that aren’t as old as half of those kids out there?”

“It’s-uh-it’s been a while,” he admitted quietly. “To all of it. This place though, Nat, it’s everything to me. It’s not just a livelihood.”

“I know,” She smiled. “I get that, and I want you around, holding this place up with pure, defiant stubbornness for a long time to come. Four more decades at least.” Her smile widened when he snorted in amusement. “But that’s only going to happen if you loosen that deathgrip on your pride and take care of yourself now.”

Steve sighed and let her words, far gentler than her previous ones, settle over him. He knew that she was right. He’d known for a long time that he had put his own problems on the back burner for the sake of this place, let himself conform and cling to the distraction. Not for the first time, Steve felt inexplicably grateful for the odd friendship he had managed to develop with her. Somehow she always managed to get through to him, even when Bucky seemed to struggle with his obtuseness. Maybe she just hadn’t reached that point of resignation yet. He hated the thought that Bucky possibly already had.

“And so you know,” she added, an idle tone back in her voice. “I’m not sure what you said to Sam--I didn’t ask, and I wouldn’t let the kids or James tell me--but from the way it sounds, you owe that man one hell of an apology.”

Steve winced at the memory of the heated, poorly timed argument, “Yeah. Yeah I know, Nat. There was this reporter that cornered me on the way in that day. Pressing me about the Avengers, and saying she was going to try to get the kids to talk to her. I was already pissed off about that, and a shitty doctors appointment that I really couldn’t afford to begin with, and not-so-great news there, and… and I guess, Sam kinda took the heat for it.”

“You do realize that you have direct access to three people who have the best chance of getting the media off of your back right?” Natasha smirked.

“No?” Steve said in confusion.

“Tony’s a pro with the press, and between him and Sam, they’ve got enough stubborn loyalty and determination to make things happen,” she pointed out. “And I’m sure if  _ you _ had asked Sam for help taking care of it? It would have been done before you got done explaining the problem.”

“And who else?” he asked, forcing his mind to ignore the second half of the statement. Natasha just gave him a blank stare and arched a brow pointedly. Steve felt his face heat when realization settled in. “Oh. Right. Natasha Romanov might have some experience making problems go away, huh?”

“Maybe just a little,” she smirked. “I should warn you though…”

“About?” he said warily, not liking the sudden turn.

“When you stop being a stubborn ass and actually apologize, be prepared for commentary about your size,” Natasha said, amusement evident.

“Why do I need to be prepared for that? Sam’s never said a word about it before now.”

“And he probably won’t until he knows he’s not going to set you off again, and even then it wouldn’t likely be malicious. That’s not how he operates,” she agreed. “But I wasn’t meaning it would come from Sam. Tony, on the other hand…”

“Why would Tony Stark have anything to say about my height?”

“Because he’s good at finding what makes people tick, and you are -- and have always been -- sensitive about your size,” she shrugged. “And...Tony can be a little overzealous when he feels the need to be protective of those he counts as his. Our team, for example.”

“And you and Sam are both pissed at me,” Steve sighed. “Guess I’ll deal with it when it comes up.”

“ _ Sam _ is pissed at you,” Natasha corrected. “And justifiably so, from the sounds of it. I’m just annoyed.”

“Coming from you, that’s probably the more dangerous one,” Steve huffed.

“True,” she shrugged. “But both are fixable, if you’re actually willing to try.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, relaxing slightly back into his chair. 

“Gather your paperwork,” Natasha said, nodding to the folder on the desk. “All of it, Steve. It’s past time to pull the books open. You, James, me and Amelia are going to have a sit down about the numbers, and you’re going to come clean. Bring your bookkeeper in if you need to. But we  _ are _ going to address this properly.

Steve eyed the folder for a long moment and then sighed, deflating entirely, and knowing she was right. It was the right thing to do. It had  _ been  _ the right thing to do for a long time, and he had ignored it. He slowly pulled his eyes from the folder and met hers, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said with one of her genuine smiles. “I know right now it feels like losing, but this is a really good thing for these kids, for you and for everyone. We’ll set up a strict budget, I promise. But we need to start addressing this properly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next week!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you, Steve. You’re just as on edge for news as they are. Natalie’s words don’t mean any more to you then they do to those kids. Just admit it, punk. You care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Friday, another Chapter! I hope this week has treated everyone well enough <3
> 
> In other news! If you happen to get notifications when I post new fics and chapters, there is a lot of new stuff coming up over the next month or so. Don't be too terribly surprised if I happen to pop up a little more frequently than what is my norm. November is looking busy for due dates :)
> 
> Have a great weekend everyone!

In the weeks that followed the argument and Steve's subsequent trip to the hospital, things at the Center had stayed almost normal. He still came in early and didn’t go back home until far later than he ought to. The kids and the cat were still full of more energy than Steve was certain should be possible--even though they had all proven that it was  _ very _ possible time and time again. Bucky still spent more time poking, prodding, and hovering than anything else. On the surface, nothing had changed.

But Steve found himself watching the doors more often than he was comfortable admitting. 

Either from the vantage point that his office offered or wherever else in the Center he happened to be at the time, his attention inevitably strayed to the nearest door expectantly. He eyed the clock with a disgruntled sigh. It was pushing two in the afternoon. Nat should have been there over an hour ago, and Sam… well, Sam  _ used _ to come by around the same time. Not that Steve could blame the guy if he didn’t follow his usual schedule. 

Sam had stayed true to his word ever since the argument. Aside from apparently hanging out while Bucky took Steve to the hospital, Sam hadn’t been by since then. Steve was a little surprised that none of the kids had asked him about it, but he knew that his reprieve from the questions was primarily due to the widely-broadcasted media coverage of the Avengers’ high-profile battle currently on it’s third long day in California. 

He hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to open the coverage on his own, but Steve discreetly listened to Joshua, Hannah, and Katie talking about it across the room. Had stolen quick glances over Joey’s or Drew’s shoulders. It hadn’t taken long for the word to travel throughout the Center and for all sixteen of them to pile into the lounge. Drew and the rest of Stark’s tech-team were quick to set up the newly rebuilt laptops where everyone could see. Several of them had their personal phones following the coverage as well. Steve tried not to seem as eager for news as the rest of the room, but he didn’t know if he was entirely successful. 

“Steve! Look, it’s Natalie!” Shaina shouted on the first day that the coverage ran. 

“Wait,” Nate scowled, glaring at the screen as though it had personally offended him. “You mean to tell me that we’ve had Cap and the Black Widow here all this time and we’re just now figuring this out?”

“Nah, we only had Cap the first day,” Joshua corrected. “It was just Sam here after that.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Despite Steve’s hostile words, he had seen it himself in the months that Sam had been coming to the Center. The first day, he had brought the shield and gamely kept his Captain America demeanor in place. After that though, more of Sam Wilson seemed to shine through, especially as he grew more and more comfortable with the kids. 

It had become a common sight to find the man settled into one of the stiff plastic chairs--leaving the comfortable ones for the kids, despite the fact that Steve, Bucky and Nat had no qualms with claiming the comfortable ones when they were available--and coaching one kid or another through their homework. All easy grins, ready encouragement, addictive laughter. Steve also knew that he had helped Joshua, Katie, and Ryan with researching college options and their applications; he had processed the application fees for all three. Sam had even gamely joined in helping Amelia study for her GED as soon as she had begun expressing interest. Sam had insistently worked to convince Steve that bringing Stark in for the techy kids was a good idea. For all the things that were said in that pain-and-anxiety fueled lashing out, Steve was very well aware that Sam had proven time and time again that he had these kids’ best interests at heart.

The whole argument took on an entirely different flavor with the man’s absence at the Center. To his initial displeasure, he had grown used to Sam’s regular presence. Hearing his voice and laughter echo down the hall intermixed with whichever kid’s voice had him laughing to begin with. The sound even reaching Steve’s office. He had come to expect Sam’s arrival every week without fail, and had grown fond of the friendships that had developed, not just between Sam and the kids but also between Sam and himself. And the way he couldn’t help but feel like they had spent months toeing around the potential for something more entirely. 

He knew he only had himself to blame for the sudden change in the Center’s dynamics. 

No matter what he had said to Bucky, Steve had regretted the words he said to Sam as soon as he had said them. He had wanted to reel them back in immediately, but he had been so overwhelmed and so  _ angry _ that the words kept pouring out. Sam hadn’t deserved that. He wasn’t sure what could be done to make up for that sort of unprompted attack, if anything.

Steve didn’t pull up the news on his own devices though. As much as he  _ ached _ to know that Sam and Nat were  _ okay,  _ or however badly he wanted to send text after text to Nat’s phone until she got annoyed enough to answer, Steve was fairly certain he didn’t quite deserve to know. If something of note did happen, he was sure the kids would be talking about it within minutes, if not sooner. 

Only, the talking wasn’t what happened. 

There was a shock-laced gasp that echoed through the room where they had all congregated, each hovering over their phones or leaning against someone else’s shoulder to be able to see the laptop screens better. The silence that followed the gasp settled like a brick in Steve’s stomach as dread rushed over him. He wouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t even sure that he could bring himself  _ to _ ask. He just had to wait, one of them would say something eventually.

He startled slightly at the sudden pressure of a heavy hand on his shoulder. Bucky quirked a brow in question as he eyed the full yet uncomfortably silent room. Steve shrugged and shook his head in answer. Bucky rolled his eyes and made his way over to where a couple of the girls were hunched over a small phone, eyes locked on the coverage.

“What’s going on here, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, crouching down next to Sadie’s chair. It was only then that Steve felt even more like an ass when he realized that the girl--and several of the others--were silently crying at whatever the news was reporting. Maybe if he’d gotten out of his head for just a few minutes he’d have noticed and done his job to comfort them before Bucky even had to intervene.

“Sam just got knocked outta the air on live news coverage,” Drew explained in a tight tone, and Steve did his best not to let the shot of fear that bolted through him show on his face. Bucky’s expression said that he probably hadn’t been very successful. “They didn’t show if Iron Man was close enough to stop it.”

“Sam’s tough,” Bucky reassured them. “He’ll be okay, guys.”

It was another full 24 hours of on-edge anticipation before Steve heard his phone ping with the familiar tone of a new message coming in. He didn’t pay any attention to the fact that they were all seated in the main lounge room again. He didn’t care that Bucky eyed him in amusement when he scrambled for his phone, or that nearly every one of the kids’ heads turned his direction in hopes of news. 

He felt his shoulders slump when potent relief mixed with mild disappointment as he opened the message. It was very brief and to the point. Extremely short on details that Steve would only admit to himself that he was desperate to have.

_ I’m okay. _

Steve looked up from his phone and shot the kids a small, relieved smile. “Nat’s okay.”

“What about Sam?” Joshua asked, glancing down to eye his own phone, likely hoping the man in question would send a message then and there. Steve wondered how many messages the boy had sent in the last day.

“I don’t have any other information,” Steve said. “I’m not sure they’re even at a safe point to talk but, I’ll ask her for updates when she can.”

_ Good.  _ He responded to Nat’s message.  _ Everyone else? The kids are worried. _

The response -- several responses, by the rapid pinging of his phone -- came through only seconds later. Steve felt another rush of relief wash over him. Surely she wouldn’t be responding to him if she was still in the middle of the fight, right? No, he had read enough over the years about the Black Widow and knew Natalie well enough to know that she was a smart woman. That wasn’t the sort of risk she would take, not even to reassure them of her safety. He thumbed open his messages again and felt his face heat.

_ The kids are worried, huh?   
_ _ Okay Steve. _

Steve hid his overwhelming relief behind an unconvincing scowl at the device in his hands. He could almost hear her smirking voice as he read her teasing messages.  _ That’s not an answer. _

_ We’re all in rough shape right now Steve.   
_ _ They don’t need that kind of answer.  
_ _ We’ll be back in New York by morning.  
_ _ Sam isn’t able to get to his gift list this time. _

He felt the weight of eyes on him and glanced up, wincing when he found the kids and Bucky all watching him expectantly. He swallowed thickly, eyeing Nat’s words again, and then sighed softly. “She can’t really give any information right now, guys. She says they’re heading back soon though.”

“If they’re coming back, that means they’re okay though, right?” Hannah asked, hesitantly.

“It means,” Bucky interjected, saving Steve from having to come up with a suitable response. “That Natalie has a lot going on right now, and I’m sure that she’ll update us as soon as she can.”

“That’s the most nonanswer of nonanswers ever,” Joey grumbled. “We’re not dumb, you know. Getting knocked out of the sky, what like six stories or something? It’s a big deal, right?”

“Obviously it’s a big deal,” one of the others shot back sarcastically. “Like, I get that Sam’s tough and Captain America and all, but the news isn’t even reporting anything about him. It’s like they’re pretending nothing happened.”

Steve winced and quickly shot off another text before the conversation could spiral any further.  _ Nat, can I at least have something to tell them? They were watching when Sam got shot down. _ Thankfully, her responses were as prompt as the previous ones.

_ Shit.   
_ _ I didn’t think of that.  
_ __ He kept conscious until he made his landing. Sort of.  
_ He’s in rough shape but he’s okay.  
_ __ Little loopy at the moment, actually.

_ Thank you, _ he shot off quickly. 

“Guys, Sam’s okay,” he called out, regaining the room’s attention. “Nat says he made his landing as safely as he could and he’s being checked over, but he’s okay.” The sigh of relief that he heard echo through the room was unmistakably wary and hesitant, as though they heard the words but they weren’t quite sure they could believe it.

Steve found himself sympathizing. He had finally given in and watched the footage of the hit that took Sam out of the air in the relative safety of his office. He had watched as much as he could find of the entire televised battle, and a bit more of what popped up on the internet thanks to the shaky, phone-recorded videos of bystanders. Privately, he could admit that he wasn’t entirely sure he believed Natalie’s--Natasha’s, whoever’s--assurances any more than the kids did. It didn’t look pretty, that’s for sure.

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that  _ she _ was as okay as she said she was either. While the news cameras were quick to follow Cap and Iron Man, footage of the Widow was far more scarce. That hadn’t stopped some individual bystander videos from capturing glimpses of her. Steve could admit that he worried for her as well.

He sighed softly and slipped out of the lounge, phone gripped tightly in his hand until the edges dug into his fingers and palm. Once he was back in the relative privacy of his office, he pushed the door closed and dropped into his chair, twisting it side to side thoughtfully. His head turned to the side and he stared out of the window, remembering a few days ago when he watched Sam pack away all of the justifiable anger to sit on the cold concrete and cheer up Joshua after receiving the rejection letter.

The office door clicked open and Steve turned to watch Bucky slip in, closing it just as quietly behind him. Bucky sighed wearily as he dropped into one of the other chairs, kicking his feet up and crossing at his ankles on the corner of the desk. “That was shit,” Bucky said. “Sucks that they had to watch that happen.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed quietly, not able to even muster the usual annoyance at Bucky putting his feet up on the furniture. “Yeah, that was rough.”

“Got your head out of your ass yet?” Bucky asked, arching a brow pointedly at the half-hearted glare Steve shot him. “I know you, Steve. You’re just as on edge for news as they are. Natalie’s words don’t mean any more to you then they do to those kids. Just admit it, punk. You care.”

“So, I care,” Steve admitted somewhat defensively. “I think I probably care for every damned one of you more than is good for my health. Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Steve huffed. Of course it didn’t matter. Steve was well aware that he screwed up and dug his own hole. He really didn’t need Bucky to keep riding him about it.

“Think anyone who’s spent more than ten seconds with you knows that you’re a prideful asshole,” Bucky retorted. “Suppose it depends on if you’re going to use those words for more than picking fights.”

“It’s not like that, Buck,” he insisted, rolling his eyes before dropping them to the desk’s surface. And it wasn’t. They had been friends, yes, but Steve was pretty sure he’d torched that and any other potential there might have been.

“I’m gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that,” Bucky snorted. “But alright. Suppose you wouldn’t mind then if I went for him?”

“What?” Steve scowled, ignoring that the word came out very nearly a squawk. “You don’t even like guys, why would you wanna do that?”

“I like Sam well enough,” Bucky shrugged with a small smirk that Steve narrowed his eyes at. “I’m not blind, Stevie, I can recognize a good lookin’ dude as easy as you.” 

Steve hadn’t been sure that he could scowl any harder, but he somehow managed to scrape up more irritation as Bucky’s words fully settled into his mind. Steve was 95% sure that Bucky was messing with him. That his interest in Sam wasn’t nearly what he was making it out to be. He was actually fairly sure that Bucky had spent the last few years with his eyes locked on a certain redheaded self-defense instructor with a venomous alter ego. It was that 5% that made him nervous. 

Bucky’s smirk only grew and he settled further back into his seat, fingers lacing over his chest. Steve knew that no matter what he said, whatever thoughts or feelings he may or may not have for Sam Wilson were obvious enough for Bucky to read right off of his face. 

Asshole.

“I hate you sometimes,” Steve grumbled. 

“Love you too, Stevie,” Bucky grinned smugly. “So I’ll ask again. Did you get your head out of your ass yet?”

“Maybe,” Steve reluctantly admitted. If there  _ was _ a chance in hell of making up for the nasty things he had said, he definitely wasn’t gonna sit back and let Bucky snatch it away from him. Maybe that made him selfish, but maybe that was, in this instance, an okay thing.

“You gonna do something about it?” Bucky challenged.

“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve sighed. “After the last time we talked, and everything else… Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

“It’s called an apology, jackass,” Bucky snorted. “It’s when you own up to your fuck up and admit that you were wrong. Because you were.”

“I know what an apology is, Bucky,” Steve glared, and then he slumped further into his chair with a sigh. He was pretty sure Bucky had followed him with the sole intention of being difficult. Steve loved the guy, he did. Bucky wasn’t ‘like’ his brother, Bucky  _ was _ his brother as far as either of them were concerned. And like big brothers everywhere, sometimes he just couldn’t seem to help but be an ass. “And I know when I owe one. Believe it or not, I’m not so helpless that I need you to tell me that.”

“‘Cause I’m just sayin’,” Bucky continued casually as though Steve hadn’t said a word. “If you don’t, I sure as hell will.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve huffed, his head falling back against his chair. 

“No can do, punk, no can do,” Bucky grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next week!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had opted to take over one of the small, round tables in the lounge rather than secluding himself in his office -- choosing to work on less sensitive work rather than remove himself from the kids piled around the room, each attempting to focus on their own tasks. He suspected that they weren’t having much more luck than he was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I hope that you've had a good week :)

Steve stared at the paperwork spread out over the table top in front of him. The words and numbers seemed to blur slightly the more he attempted to force his focus. He had opted to take over one of the small, round tables in the lounge rather than secluding himself in his office -- choosing to work on less sensitive work rather than remove himself from the kids piled around the room, each attempting to focus on their own tasks. He suspected that they weren’t having much more luck than he was. 

It had already been three days since Nat said they would be back in New York, and while she had periodically messaged him, she had yet to show up at the Center. Neither had Sam, for that matter, but Steve was still doubtful that he would, no matter how much he might hope otherwise. Not that Steve could blame him. But it did beg the question as to whether or not he would get the opportunity to give the apology that he knew was due. Steve had never been particularly good at grovelling, but he knew this very well might be the exception.

Steve sighed quietly and ran a hand through his hair, immediately recalling Natasha’s chiding words about taking better care of himself. He really could use a hair cut sooner than later. Maybe once he could see for himself that they were okay.

Sudden movement caught the corner of his eye at the same time the sharp screech of a chair dragged across the linoleum floor was heard. Steve’s head snapped up in concern, only to find an empty chair and Joshua halfway across the room. He blinked in confusion, and suddenly the room was in chaos with echoing shouts of “Sam!” and “Natalie!” and excited footsteps.

Nat and Sam, both looking worn and weary, were just inside the doors, and Steve felt relief rush over him like a tidal wave and pushed from his chair with only slightly less force than the kids had used. 

Joshua, being the first to have noticed their arrival, was already wrapped in a tight hug from Sam. Even from the distance Steve still was, he could hear Sam’s low voice talking reassuringly to the boy. “I’m alright. Sorry it took a bit for me to be able to get here, but I’m okay, promise.”

Natasha’s expression was surprisingly blank, void of even the mild emotional tells that she usually allowed herself to display, as Sadie and Olivia clung to her and the rest of the kid’s circled around both her and Sam. Steve had to wonder if she really hadn’t recognized how much these kids, every one of them, cared about her too. It seemed to be the case, as the cool mask seemed to fracture and she hugged the two girls just as tightly as they were hugging her, cheek pressed against Olivia’s dark hair and lips moving in a quiet reassurance that Steve couldn’t quite hear. 

“Easy guys,” Steve said gently as he reached the group. “I know you’re relieved to see them, but how about we let them get comfortable? Sounds like they’ve had a rough week.”

The kids didn’t exactly disperse so much as guided the returning pair eagerly but carefully back into the lounge and towards one of the overstuffed couches that the youngests always somehow managed to claim. Steve carefully caught Natasha by the wrist before she could be shuffled along and tugged her into a hug.

“I’m so glad you're okay,” he said quietly but seriously.

“I told you I was,” she said with a tired smile.

He nodded slightly, “Yeah, but given your profession, I imagine that our definitions of ‘okay’ are a little bit different.”

“I’ve had worse,” she agreed, and then studied him closely for a brief moment. “You were actually worried.”

“Nat,” Steve said exasperatedly. “Of course I was. Don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, Ms. Super-Spy, but we’re all pretty fond of you. Myself included. Another four decades, at least.”

Her smile softened and a little more of the mask holding her emotions under control faded away, and she affectionately ruffled his hair, “I’ll do better at clarifying what version of ‘okay’ I am then.”

“Good,” he grinned. “Go on, they’ve missed you.”

He stayed where he was, smiling fondly, as Sadie and Olivia quickly moved back in to recapture Nat’s attention. It was a moment later that he realized he wasn’t as alone as he had thought he was. He glanced to his right to find Sam standing there, eyeing him warily. Steve took the awkward moment to gain his own confirmation that Sam was actually _there_ and that he was _okay._

“Look, Steve,” he sighed. “I know I said that I’d stay away, and I will. It’s just… I knew this one was high profile, you know? Then Nat said they were watching when I got hit. I just wanted them to know I was okay.”

Steve shook his head and took a hesitant step forward, “No, no you were right to come. They’ve been worrying themselves mad. We all have. I--” he cut himself off and then sighed, looking up to meet Sam’s eye head on. “I owe you an apology. A big one. I-I was so far out of line, and I know I was. There were a lot of contributing factors to that day, and I didn’t handle a single one of them the way that I ought to have. For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. You’re a great man and you’re amazing with them. They all like Cap, sure, but they love Sam.”

Sam’s body language progressively relaxed as Steve spoke as honestly and earnestly as he knew how. It wasn’t enough, Steve knew that. He had said and insinuated a lot of terrible things that a simple apology wasn’t nearly enough to make up for. But he at least hoped that it was a start.

“I’m not here for an image,” Sam reiterated. “These kids mean a lot to me too.”

“I know,” Steve said with a guilty nod. “I know. I knew that then, too, I think.” He sighed, “There was a reporter here that day. Asking questions about you and the Avengers and your interest in this place. Sayin’ she was going to try talking to the kids. Between that and some outside things… it had me furious, and well -- I’m the asshole that took it out on you. It doesn’t--it doesn’t excuse the things I said. I’ve seen you with them enough to know better. And… yeah,” he finished lamely.

Sam nodded slowly and shifted his stance, wincing slightly at the movement. He seemed to consider his words for a moment and then sighed, broad shoulders dropping, “Mind if we talk more about this later?” He asked. “I appreciate the apology, and I accept it, but I think we need to sort some things out.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve blurted in a rush, feeling his face flush at the too-eager response.

Sam smirked slightly in amusement but nodded again, “I’m benched for another couple days at least, so there’s time.”

“Whenever,” Steve said more certainly. “I’m always here.”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed, and Steve bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting to the sound of it. “And I hear your walls have ears. Either way, we’ll figure it out.”

“Of course. When-whenever. Anyway, I’ll-uh-I’ll just grab my stuff and get-get out of the way. Head to the office,” Steve said. “They’ll be happy to get some time with you and Nat both.” As much as he wanted to stick around, to take the same time that the teens were to reassure himself that they were both _here_ and _okay,_ he knew that it wasn’t really his time for that. He could wait. He offered an anxious smile and quickly moved to do exactly that, stuffing the mess of paperwork back into its folder without care for neatness or order and heading back toward the door. He paused just long enough to give Nat’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, unsure where or what the severity of her injuries might be, before making his escape.

It was only maybe an hour later when a quiet knock against the doorframe drew Steve’s attention from the unending mound of paperwork required to keep a place like the Center running. He looked up, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, “Sam. Hi.”

“Hey,” Sam returned, hesitating for a moment before entering the office and carefully lowering himself into one of the more comfortable looking chairs. 

Suddenly feeling awkward with the expanse of the desk between them, Steve pushed out of his chair and dropped with considerably less care into the chair next to Sam’s. “How are you doing?” he asked tentatively, eyeing the stiff way Sam still held himself.

“I’m doing,” Sam said wryly. “Not an experience I care to repeat any time soon, I’ll tell you that.”

“I think that’s understandable,” Steve agreed.

Sam’s expression shifted slightly, twisting into something thoughtful, but Steve couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative. “Steve,” he said, voice hesitant. “I gotta ask. Is there some part of you that really believed that? The image thing? Charity case, you called it.”

Steve sighed and leaned back into his chair with a wince. “I think some part of me did. Initially at least,” he admitted. “When you first started to come around, I wondered. And honestly, not ‘cause of anything you did or didn’t do. It’s kinda the nature of people, you know? Most people don’t do nice things for others just for the sake of doing nice things. It’s just not how the world works. So, yes, at first I was suspicious.”

He automatically chewed idly on his bottom lip as he gathered his thoughts before continuing. “I don’t know how much Nat’s told you -- and it doesn’t bother me if she did, for the record, but I might have some hangups about accepting things and money that I haven’t earned. But you gotta understand that running a place like this, a lot of times accepting those donations-- _using_ that money--is as good as selling those kids out. They donate money and then they have expectations in return. Here’s this gift, now you better be doing XYZ with those kids. And it’s not always to the kids’ benefit.”

“So when--when those come in, I can’t help it Sam. My mind goes through all the worst possible scenarios,” Steve sighed. “At least if I’m using my own funds, my own resources and the resources that the Center already has… I know what the strings are, you know?”

“I get that,” Sam agreed slowly. “But that only partially explains the things that were said, Steve, and it doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

“In that moment, when we were arguing over it? Yes, the thought was there in my mind,” Steve admitted bluntly. “But did I actually _believe_ that thought? I sure as hell didn’t want to. I think that’s at least part of what had me so angry when that reporter was pushing for information.”

“It felt like maybe I set you up,” Sam finished, slowly leaning back in his chair and shifting until he could find a more comfortable position. 

“Something like that, I guess,” Steve sighed, running a ragged hand through his hair and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “And, to be honest, I was too wrapped up in my own anger that wasn’t even really directed at you, but I managed to take it out on you anyway. It doesn’t make it any better, I know. It really doesn’t make up for the shit I said, regardless of what was or wasn’t going on in my head at the time. You didn’t and don’t deserve that.”

“There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?” Sam pressed, shaking his head at Steve’s surprised glance. “Look, a couple months isn’t a long time, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know you well enough to know that you don’t just lash out because some pain in the ass reporter pissed you off unless it’s specifically at that reporter. So spill, Steve. Let’s get this air clean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween (a day early) and see you next week!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re good,” Sam said. “Were you worried?”
> 
> “Maybe,” Bucky shrugged. “Stevie’s got a hard head, no matter how big that heart might be. Didn’t know if I needed to do damage control.”
> 
> Steve huffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Friday and another chapter :D
> 
> What a week! And it keeps going and going, doesn't it? I hope you're all safe and as well as you can be <3

“I-I,” Steve sighed and eyed the open door warily for a moment. “Right. You’re right. The reporter was just icing on the massively shitty cake of a day. How much have Nat and Buck, or even the kids, told you about this place? About me?”

“Enough to know that you’re running yourself ragged and none of them can seem to get you to stop,” Sam shrugged. “You put a lot into this place and don’t keep much of anything for yourself. Your health has been pretty shitty the last year or so because of that, and it all seems like it led to your collapse.”

Steve winced but nodded reluctantly, “Yeah, I guess that about sums it up.” Steve felt himself start to clam up. He really didn’t care to get into his health issues, regardless of how much they might have played a role in tipping his temper.

“So you actually took your ass to the doctor, and something between the appointment and the time I left landed you in the hospital?” Sam stopped and shook his head. “Actually, no, scratch that. I’m really not trying to get in your business. I hit that spot the last time, and I’m not makin’ that mistake again. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”

He could admit that he was tempted to take the out that was offered, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “You were right, though,” he settled on. “About me neglecting my shit to focus on this place. Kinda bites me in the ass when I finally do get around to dealing with it.” 

“Bad news?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” and then Steve winced. “Yes, but no, not the way you mean though. Or, maybe a little bit like you mean. But I guess more unwelcome news at an unwelcome cost. I’m not as bad off as I was when I was younger, when I was these kids’ age, but what stuck around kinda takes its toll.”

“And you hadn’t eaten, on top of whatever tests they ran at the docs,” Sam summarized. “So you were feeling like shit, stressed I’m guessing about a combination of health and money, and the reporter pushed your big ol’ red buttons, and I ended up the unlucky recipient.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, wincing again guiltily. “Wait. How did you know I didn’t eat?”

“I was here already, remember?” Sam smiled. “You skipped breakfast to patch up Joey again, and you left before lunch and came back after. Aside from the one time we went to that diner, you don’t eat out unless James or Nat drags you kicking and screaming the whole way. Kinda obvious.”

“Oh,” Steve blinked and cleared his throat. “Right. I mean, yes, and I guess that explains where my head was at a bit, but none of that exactly justifies me being an asshole. I’m not trying to explain it away or excuse it or--”

“Steve,” Sam said with an exasperated tone. “I swear, it’s like you don’t think you’re allowed to feel anything other than anger unless it’s related to those kids. You’re allowed to feel shitty. Is it the best idea to take it out on someone trying to help? Not at all. I definitely didn’t appreciate it. But I’ve done the same. It sucks being on the receiving end of it, not gonna lie, but it’s human. You said a lot of stupid shit, you apologized, and I accepted the apology. Now it’s just about finding what’s level.”

“I’m… not sure I know what you mean?” Steve said hesitantly.

Sam paused, considering his words. “I don’t know if I’m making a whole lot of sense. I’m still a little fuzzy from that hit, so give me a minute to try and make it understandable.” He sighed and shook his head like he was shaking away stray thoughts and made to lean forward, only to visibly force back a wince and settle back into his chair. “I just mean that you and I? We’ve gotten along pretty damned well, with last week being a pretty glaring exception. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s something there. Between you and me. So what do we do? How do you and I get to the point where something like last week doesn’t happen again? ‘Cause, Steve, we’re good right now. I can’t say the same thing will hold true if this starts to become a pattern. I’m not up for being anyone’s scapegoat.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Steve agreed solemnly, heart clenching at the acknowledgement of that unknown  _ something _ that he hadn’t let himself think about, let alone hope for. He shifted forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and staring for a moment at his laced fingers. “I’m working on it. I swear I am. Later this week, maybe depending on how Nat’s feeling, we’re opening the Center’s books. It’s not going to be easy for me, I already know that. It’s almost a habit at this point to keep the workings of this place to myself. But that’s not fair to anyone.”

“Least of all you,” Sam pointed out.

Steve nodded and sighed, “I know. Always have known, but it seemed like the best option at the beginning, and it kind of just stuck. I can’t keep carrying on that way, and I know that I can’t. But I know once we get working on it and things start balancing out a bit here, it’ll be more reasonable to take care of some of the things that I’ve been putting off. I guess what I’m saying is that I am trying to take steps to keep anything like that from happening again. To you or anyone else.” 

He grimaced and shrugged, “It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s a work in progress.”

“I don’t need a perfect answer,” Sam said, pushing through the discomfort to lean forward and rest his hand over Steve anxiously twisting ones. “We’re all a work in progress. That’s the way it works. But if you’re trying? If you start this up and keep working on it even when it gets rough? Steve, there’s not anything more anyone can really expect of you.”

Steve stared at their hands for a moment, shifting his grip hesitantly until Sam’s was held between his own, allowing himself a brief moment to take note of the warmth and softness of the skin, and the slight coarseness of the callouses. “I swear I’ll earn it, Sam.”

“Earn what?” Sam asked quietly.

“This… this faith you and Nat and Bucky and, god, everyone seem to have in me,” Steve answered, letting his eyes close against the overwhelming sensation of the words even as he spoke them. “Despite the fact that I’m a perpetually pissed off wet cat the majority of the time. Yet you--you still seem to have that faith in me that I sure as hell don’t see justification for.”

“That’s not something you’ve got to  _ earn,” _ Sam responded, squeezing Steve’s hands lightly. “We have that belief in you because you prove it without trying, day in and day out. The only person you’ve got left to prove it to is yourself.”

Steve chuckled shakily, but nodded, “I don’t know that that’s gonna happen anytime soon. Maybe once the new budget gets put together and starts working the way I hope it will. Maybe then I might start to believe it. Right now, I’m seeing too many ways I’ve been screwing this place over for years to really have much belief in my own judgement.”

“You really think you’ve screwed this place over?” Sam asked, tugging at their linked hands until Steve looked up. “You really believe that?”

“Nat wasn’t exactly wrong when she pointed out that I was holding us all back because of pride,” Steve shrugged.

“But you also just said that part of that pride was protectiveness, looking out for those kids -- so the way I see it, it kinda evens out, doesn’t it?” Sam pointed out.

“In some ways, I guess,” Steve agreed with another shrug. He paused nervously for a moment, thumb sweeping across the back of Sam’s hand as he considered his words. “When we go through the books and work on ideas for this place, will you be there?”

“Do you want me there?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“I-I’d like it if you were?” Steve said, feeling awkward but certain. “If you were there and a part of making this place better.”

“Then I guess I’ll be there,” Sam answered with one of those warm smiles that Steve had been more than a little hooked on nearly from the beginning. “Just let me know when.”

“Definitely,” Steve said with a smile of his own, feeling slightly shy all of a sudden. 

Sam shifted, tugging his chair in further until he could sit back more comfortably into it without withdrawing his hand. Steve stared at their hands once again, more than a little surprised that neither of them had broken the contact. Not that he was complaining. Steve knew that he wasn’t about to be the first to pull away. He glanced back up to find Sam studying him intently. 

Steve could feel himself flush faintly at the scrutiny even as he offered a small smile, “I am really, really grateful that you’re okay. I know I didn’t say so earlier, but I am.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” Sam teased with a playful wink and Steve could feel drawing his blush all the more visible. “But thank you. And thank you for letting me come see them and let them get that confirmation, too.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Steve said seriously. “I know what I said before, and really I am sorry for that. I can’t tell you how much. But you belong here with us just the same as Bucky, Nat and I do.” 

Sam seemed to avoid his eyes for a long moment, glancing almost idly around the room and nodding slowly. When he finally turned back, his expression was tight, and he swallowed thickly, “Thanks. That’s. Wow, yeah, that’s good to hear. You know, to know that I’m not just a passing visitor for them.”

“Or for the rest of us,” Steve nodded in understanding. “I know you’re busy with your own things, but there’s always room for you here. Whether that’s the regular routine schedule you’ve had, more or less. It’s all up to you.”

“Keep me on the roster,” Sam agreed with a shaky laugh. “I’ll probably be around a bit more at least until the docs clear me, if that’s cool?”

“Does ‘always room here’ ring a bell?” Steve teased with a smirk, laughing when Sam rolled his eyes and played at tugging his hand away. “Just remember Nat’s thing about poking injuries if she thinks we’re pushing too hard.”

Sam snorted a laugh, “Yeah, don’t think she’s got a whole lot of room to talk this go-around though. We all got it pretty good on this one. Banner’s the only one to get out without a scratch, but he mostly kept out of it. Not really a Hulk-friendly situation.”

“D’you really think that’s gonna stop Nat from doing what she wants?” Steve asked, brows raised in amusement.

“No,” Sam admitted. “No, I know better than to expect that.”

Steve’s reply, though he wasn’t sure what it might have been anyway, was interrupted by movement at the still-open door. He glanced up to find Bucky leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and eyes jumping between Sam and Steve and their hands with a smirk. He met Steve’s eye, and the smirk widened knowingly. Steve automatically braced himself for whatever teasing and shit-talking was inevitably on its way.

“Wondered where you two disappeared off to,” Bucky said curiously, pushing off of the door frame and moving through the office until he reached the desk and hauled himself up to sit on the surface.

“Oh, come on, Buck,” Steve groaned. “There are  _ chairs, _ why do you have to keep putting your ass where it doesn’t belong?”

“Because it annoys you,” Bucky replied without pause. “Why do I do anything that pisses you off?”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Fucking jerk.”

“You know it,” Bucky shrugged. He dropped his attention again to their hands, and his smirk softened into something a little more genuine. Steve still wasn’t entirely certain if it was something that he could trust, though. He had known Bucky for far, far too many years to let a slightly sweeter smile lower his guard. “You two all done kissing and making up then?” 

And there it was. Steve groaned quietly, shooting Sam an exasperated look when he chuckled, presumably at Steve’s reaction. 

“We’re good,” Sam said. “Were you worried?”

“Maybe,” Bucky shrugged. “Stevie’s got a hard head, no matter how big that heart might be. Didn’t know if I needed to do damage control.”

Steve huffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Buck.”

“No problem,” Bucky grinned.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve froze, staring wide-eyed at Natasha until Sam squeezed his hands encouragingly. He darted a glance over and Sam gave him a small, understanding smile, and Steve sighed. Sam did say that they were going to be clearing the air, he just hadn’t realized that it was going to be this in depth. He cleared his throat and nodded in concession. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another Friday and another chapter. Just a heads up, this one gets a bit heavy.
> 
> But I hope everyone's had a great week so far and that everyone's as safe and healthy as they can be!
> 
> Take care and enjoy!

“Did I miss anything exciting?” Sam asked.

“Nothing too much,” Bucky answered. “You were here for the last of the excitement.”

“Don’t know that I’d go as far as calling it exciting,” Sam responded. His brows furrowed slightly in question as he turned his attention back to Steve. “Speaking of, I meant to ask about that and we got off track. Did they say what caused the whole passing-out thing?”

Steve felt his face heat awkwardly at the question. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing his health issues, maybe especially with the one person that didn’t seem to have a constant stream of criticism ready for him regarding it. Of course, his obvious discomfort did nothing to keep Bucky’s mouth shut.

“Just that he’s driving himself to an early grave, at the rate he’s going,” Bucky ended up answering for him. Steve bit back a sigh, dropping his eyes back down to where Sam’s hand was still settled between his own. There was a reason he had stopped keeping Bucky updated about what was going on with him, and it wasn’t only out of pride. There was a healthy dose of self-preservation there too, despite what Bucky might think. “And a nice lecture from the pretty nurse about going off his medication without getting a doctor’s advice or help with it.”

“Really, Barnes?” Sam frowned, turning to stare incredulously at Bucky. “Do you really not hear yourself right now?

“Probably not,” Natasha interjected from the door. Steve looked over his shoulder at her, grateful for the interruption. “These guys are two of a kind in letting their mouths get away from them. Steve at least tends to acknowledge when he’s being an ass.”

Steve saw the confusion clear on Bucky’s face, and it was more than obvious that he had no idea why he was being called out. “How am I being an ass?” Bucky protested. “I just answered the damn question.”

“Did you ever think that maybe not every question is yours to answer?” Natasha countered as she pushed further into the office, not hesitating for a moment before pulling herself up to sit on the desk beside Bucky. Steve didn’t bother voicing his complaints about sitting on furniture other than chairs -- not when, finally, someone might actually stand a chance of making Bucky listen.

Steve shifted uncomfortably when Bucky’s confused expression shifted from Natasha to him, and Bucky shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure I understand what the big deal is.”

“You told me that day,” Sam interrupted, “that Steve doesn’t tell you what’s going on with him anymore. Did you ever stop to maybe wonder why?”

“He’s stubborn,” Bucky shrugged, frown deepening when Steve huffed and rolled his eyes in frustrated resignation. “Look, Steve, you know you are.”

“That’s not the point, Buck,” Steve said, knowing his feeling of resignation was evident in his words. So much for Bucky listening. “It really doesn’t matter, anyway. Can we just forget it?”

“I don’t think so,” Natasha frowned. “Steve, it’s never going to get better if it’s not addressed.” She turned bodily on the desk until she fully faced Bucky, “You don’t talk about your deployment. You don’t talk about your injuries, and you don’t talk about your recovery. Not once have I heard Steve tear into you the way that you do him. Nor have I heard him use what information he does have to manipulate you or mock you. Yet you do so to him seemingly every chance that you get.”

“I’m just trying to get through to him that he needs to take better care of himself,” Bucky said defensively. “He doesn’t listen to logic and rational arguments. Like I said, stubborn.”

“James,” Sam sighed. “The only thing that humiliating him and backing him into a corner has gotten you is him shutting you out. I know if my sister started shutting me out like that, I’d be doing what I could to fix it, not blaming it on her.”

“He’s sitting right here,” Steve interrupted wearily. “Seriously, Nat, Sam. Leave it. It’s not gonna fix anything. I’m fine.”

“You can’t seriously tell me that it’s okay that he intentionally tries to trigger your asthma and allergy attacks in order to get you to do what he wants you to do?” Sam asked with a frown. 

“He just wanted to motivate me to get on better medications,” Steve shrugged, exhaustion at the short but invasive conversation pulling on him. 

“You did what?” Natasha said cooly, expression frighteningly blank as she stared a hole in the side of Bucky’s head. “James Barnes, you didn’t.”

“Look, I’ve known Steve for a long time, sometimes he needs the added push to  _ finally  _ stop worrying over everyone and everything else, and  _ finally  _ take the time to worry about himself,” Bucky tried to explain. “Coddling him, talking nice,  _ asking _ only gets sarcasm. Always has been that way.”

“And your solution is to put him at bigger risk than he already is?” Nat said. “Please explain to me the logic in that, because I’m failing to see it.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Steve groaned. “I get what you’re trying to do, I really do, but steamrolling Bucky isn’t going to help.”

“Steve,” Natasha said gently. “Up until now, James has clearly been doing some seriously awful things to you with the best of misguided intentions. You’re right though, nothing’s going to change, nothing’s going to be fixed unless he’s able to see why they were awful things and make the changes to keep from repeating them.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped, “I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, Stevie.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve said quietly. 

“Steve,” Natasha prompted again. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but can you please explain why you’ve been off your medication and reluctant to start new ones?”

Steve froze, staring wide-eyed at Natasha until Sam squeezed his hands encouragingly. He darted a glance over and Sam gave him a small, understanding smile, and Steve sighed. Sam did say that they were going to be clearing the air, he just hadn’t realized that it was going to be this in depth. He cleared his throat and nodded in concession. He could do this.

“Couldn’t afford it anymore,” Steve admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been funnelling most of what I make back into this place to keep it running. It’s not like I’ve got insurance to help cover the costs of all the appointments and prescriptions and so on.”

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, the way his head was tilted giving away his confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he said finally. “You told me this place was almost entirely self-sufficient. I mean, I get that none of us on payroll are gonna be Stark-level rich any time soon, but there should be enough to at least cover that.”

“It is,” Steve shrugged. “In that it’s not reliant on any sort of outside funding. Other than a few exceptions, I supply for this place so that we don’t have to rely on the city to be kind.” 

He hesitated for a moment, squeezing Sam’s hand before reluctantly releasing it to stand and make his way back around the desk. He tugged open the same cabinet drawer that Natasha had dug through just a week ago and pulled out the thick file of various bank statements and other finance paperwork that belonged to the Center. 

“I think the plan was to wait until Nat and Sam were feeling a little better and Amelia was available, but here,” he said shakily, extending the hand holding the folder out to Bucky. “That’s everything. I’ve-uh-I’ve spent the last week pulling together everything from the time I opened this place to the present.”

“Steve--” Bucky started, but Steve cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Don’t start, Bucky, please,” Steve frowned. “Save the lecture until you’ve seen everything and, for once, hear my side. Please.”

Steve rocked on his heels anxiously as Bucky accepted the folder. Feeling very exposed and not much caring for the sensation, he avoided three sets of eyes as he wound through the office to push the door closed. He should probably go get Amelia for this, but he really didn’t feel safe in the idea of leaving the office while they dug through his trials and mistakes and whatever else they would find. 

He took a moment to take a slow breath, attempting to calm his nerves before turning back and retaking his seat. Steve blinked in surprise when, as soon as he was settled, Sam reached out and retook his hand, lacing their fingers together without hesitation. Sam shot him a small smile when he looked over, and Steve returned it with a shaky, nervous one of his own.

The various pieces and packets of papers circulated through the office among the four of them and Steve carefully explained each one, answering questions when they were asked. There were a few times when he could almost sense that Bucky was about to launch into another one of his caustically sarcastic jibes. He could read the expression and the temptation to speak as clear as day on his face, Steve knew his tells entirely too well these days. But every time he braced himself for the inevitable, it never came.

“I don’t know how I never realized how much work you put into this place,” Bucky frowned sometime later. “I knew you did a lot, but you hid a lot of this.”

“You weren’t here when I started this Buck,” Steve said quietly. “And then when you came back, you had a lot of your own stuff to deal with. It wouldn’t have been right to try droppin’ all of this on you, and I had it handled by then.”

“Steve,” Bucky said seriously, all traces of his usual teasing gone as he shook his head. “Punk, when I came back home, the first thing you did was offer me a place with you. The second thing you did was refuse to accept a rent payment.”

“You’re family, Buck,” Steve scowled. “I’m not gonna charge you rent for coming home. It’s not like we’ve got a house payment. Ma finished paying off the mortgage before she died.”

“Yes, but you refuse to let me cover anything more than groceries,” Bucky countered, brow arched pointedly. Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky raised his voice just enough to push through whatever Steve might have wanted to say. “And  _ then, _ you brought me on here--granted, it took a year before you even offered to let me do more than just visit occasionally--and pay me double what you take home, knowing that I do get a regular disability check from the VA. And then turn around and put at least half back into this place? Stevie, pal, what the hell are you doin’ to yourself?”

“What I needed to do, Bucky,” he sighed. “I’ve done what I needed to do to make sure that this place and these kids and my family--which is you, jerk--were taken care of.”

“Let’s go over the donations account,” Natasha suggested. “I think that’s a topic that you two might need to address on your own without an audience.”

“Dunno,” Steve admitted with a huff of laughter. “Buck and I tend to need mediation more often than not anymore.”

“That’s because he’s been too busy talking to actually listen,” she said pointedly. “I think he might finally be ready to listen now. Just like you are.”  


“Are there particular donors that you’re trying to avoid?” Sam asked. “I know you were saying that there’s some that are tricky with their expectations and strings attached to the money.”

Steve winced, “There’s a couple yeah. Nat, there’s a couple sheets that were clipped to the most recent statement from the donation account. Mostly, I just try not to touch the money, but there’s a couple of names on there that I’ve actively rejected the donations from. There’s the paperwork and email chains that I kept in case it tried to come back to bite me. Those should be there too.”

“So you’ve not touched any of it because of a few bad eggs?” Bucky asked, tilting to the side to look over Natasha’s shoulder as she pulled out the indicated paperwork and began reading through it. 

“Sorry, I was apparently mistaken in understanding that I’m supposed to be looking out for them,” Steve huffed sarcastically. “Just because someone doesn’t send me an email with explicitly stated expectations doesn’t mean there aren’t any, Buck.”

“Would you mind if we asked Tony to look into it?” Sam asked. “He’s got the resources available, and he’s gotten a bit attached here too. I don’t think he’d mind.”

“I don’t want to be a bother with it,” Steve shrugged. “Even without the funds from unknown parties, there’s still more than enough to work with.”

“But you would be more comfortable knowing what you could and couldn’t comfortably use, right?” Sam pressed. “You’re asking us to be a part of this team, Steve. Let us have your back here.”

“He’d be okay with doing that for us?” Steve asked cautiously.

“Probably, but we won’t know for sure unless we ask,” Sam shrugged, and then glanced over to Natasha. “Nat, how long do you think it’d take JARVIS to get through that?”

“A half hour at most,” Natasha answered absently without looking up from her reading. “That’s if there’s problems with following a trail. If it’s all straightforward, JARVIS will be able to work through it in no time.”

“It’s your call, Steve,” Sam said reassuringly. 

“I already told you that I’m not too trusting of my own judgement lately,” Steve admitted with a small, self-deprecating smile. “Like you said, we’re trying to be a team on this, and it sounds like it would be a good idea to see if Tony’s willing. So let’s go with that.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to say something and Steve automatically braced himself for whatever it might be. Bucky frowned and studied him intently for a moment before pushing off of the desk. “I’m-uh-I’m gonna go check on everyone,” he said as he strode quickly to the door, pulling it open and then closed again behind him.

Steve frowned after him and made to stand, only to have gentle hands push down on his shoulders to keep him in his chair. He looked up, and Natasha smiled softly, “I’ll go. I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on in that hard head of his.” She leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek and say a quiet “I’m proud of you,” in his ear before trailing after Bucky at a much more sedate pace.

“I think I missed something,” Steve admitted when she was gone.

“James is just getting hit in the face with facts,” Sam said with a commiserating smile. “Some people need to be made a little uncomfortable in order to see that they’re in the wrong.”

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Steve said quietly.

“Maybe not,” Sam shrugged. “But he needed to realize that the stuff he was doing and saying to you wasn’t okay. Just because you two go way back doesn’t mean that he’s entitled to treat you like that. I’d say the same if the situation was reversed.”

“Normally, I don’t mind,” Steve admitted. “That’s kinda always been Buck and I’s relationship. Most things that he messes with me about don’t really bother me. But the shit going on with my health… I’m already hyperaware of it, you know?”

“Boundaries, Steve, it’s called boundaries. You’re allowed to have them, even with James,” Sam chided with a teasing grin. 

“Easier said than done when we basically lived in each other's pockets up until he left for basic,” Steve shrugged. 

Sam nodded in understanding, “That’s something for the two of you to figure out.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed with a tired sigh, not thinking about it as he tipped forward to rest his head against Sam’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but arch slightly into it when Sam’s hand that Steve wasn’t still holding onto rested against the nape of his neck. They sat in silence but it wasn’t strained or uncomfortable like it had been when Sam had first come to find him. Instead, it was a comfortable quiet that managed to somehow ease some of the tension that the impromptu financial meeting had caused.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The things that Bucky has been saying/doing here are absolutely not okay by any means. It's not cute or funny or helpful. It is a cruel, dangerous, and grossly manipulative thing to do to anyone, let alone someone that you care about. "Best of Intentions" doesn't excuse it. Unfortunately, this sort of mindset isn't entirely uncommon but, regardless, it's gross.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t all perfect, but Steve kind of thought that life didn’t have to be perfect as long as there were perfect moments like these in it to make some of the bad moments more bearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...have no good excuse for missing the last few Fridays of posting. Real life and managing to get myself too overwhelmed, that's all I've got. But I promised a reliable posting schedule and I didn't manage to stick to that so, I'm very sorry.
> 
> I had made some edits as I posted, earlier on in the story where I adjusted where different chapters started and ended for one reason or another. Because of that, the final stretch of the story ended up being a little messy in terms of length and such. So I had to adjust this final stretch accordingly. This chapter now includes the last part of the previous chapter as well as what's essentially an epilogue.
> 
> But this is it! The final piece of this fun little fic. Thank you for sticking through to the end with me and I truly hope that you've enjoyed the journey!

“Hey Sam?” he said after a while, shifting slightly in his seat but having no urge or desire to pull away. “I was thinking…”

“Uh oh,” Sam teased, and Steve huffed a laugh and gently headbutted the shoulder that he was resting against. 

Steve hesitated, and pulled away and tilted his head just enough to be able to meet Sam’s curious eyes. “I know that there’s a lot of moving pieces and parts right now and I’m not tryin’ to take away from that, but I was just wonderin’ if maybe once you’re feeling better… You might--maybe we could…” he winced and cut off his rambling, feeling his face flushing hot, only to finally manage to blurt out, “uh-Dinner?”

Sam’s grin widened and, despite his awkwardness, Steve couldn’t help but admire that smile. “Asking me on a date, Rogers?”

Steve leaned heavily on the determination and courage that had seen him through the roughest years at the Center and back alley fights and forced it into some semblance of confidence. He exhaled shakily, knowing that it exposed that whatever he managed to draw forward was little more than a front, but somehow not caring in the least. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I am.” Sam’s grin shifted, not faltered but softened into the same version that Steve recalled from the night they had gone to the diner. Steve swallowed thickly but pushed forward again, determined to see it through. “I-I like you a lot, Sam. You were right, earlier, about there being something here. Something between you and me. And-and I know I fucked up, no matter the reason or the excuse, I know I did. But I-I’d really,  _ really _ like the opportunity to-to see where this could go, you know? I don’t have much to offer, I know that too.” He grimaced slightly, feeling the inadequacy settle back across his shoulders, “If-If you don’t want to, you gotta know that’s more than fine. You’re still always welcome here. You still belong here with us, if you want.”

“Steve,” Sam interrupted with an exasperated smile. Steve snapped his mouth closed and eased back just a little further, disappointed when the move jostled Sam’s hold and slid it from his neck to his shoulder. “Stop, okay?”

“Sorry,” Steve winced.

“And stop that too,” Sam said, his smile widening into a grin when Steve flushed guiltily. 

Steve sat as still as he could with anxious anticipation coursing through him as Sam seemed to pause to gather his words. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. He had spent so much time trying to keep his interest and attraction buried down and away where it wouldn’t affect the friendship that they had been building. And he knew that it was a risk to spring it on Sam now, so soon after Steve had made a mess of everything. 

Sam broke through Steve’s spiraling thoughts, though not in the way that Steve had anticipated. Steve made a small, startled sound when Sam tugged him forward just enough to press their lips together in a soft kiss. For once, Steve didn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation, returning the kiss tentatively. 

He hadn’t let his mind wander too far into what it would be like, kissing Sam. It was one of those things that he didn’t think would ever be a reality, and it was just disrespectful to let his mind travel to thoughts that weren’t his to have. Now that it  _ was _ though, Steve couldn’t help the way he smiled into it.

Sam withdrew slowly, pulling just far enough away to be able to speak clearly, “Tomorrow night. I’ll buy.”

“No,” Steve disagreed. “You got the last one. Let me get tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Very,” Steve said firmly. 

“Let me know when and where, and I’ll be there,” Sam said by way of agreement. Steve grinned, feeling relief overtake the nervousness and ducked back in to kiss Sam again. 

“Steve--oh!”

Steve felt his face heat as he turned to face the door that he hadn’t heard swing open, and smiled an awkward smile to Amelia in greeting. “Yes, Amelia?”

The girl glanced between the two and then smiled knowingly. “ _ Finally,” _ she huffed. “Katie owes me coffee.”

“Wait, what?” Steve sputtered, but Amelia didn’t bother with clarifying.

“Natalie--Natasha?” Amelia frowned and then shrugged. “Nat asked me to come get you, and said to tell you to not bother arguing because you won’t win.”

Steve huffed and dropped his head back against Sam’s shoulder, nudging him when he could feel the evident laughter shaking through his frame. “We’ll be there in a minute, Amelia,” Sam said, and Steve could hear the amusement clear in his voice. 

“Sorry, Sam, I’m supposed to make sure,” she responded cheekily.

“That woman’s a menace sometimes,” Steve grumbled but pushed to his feet, stepping back to give Sam room to get up as well. “Did she happen to mention what this was about?”

“We sent James and Joey to get the pizza and ice cream,” Amelia answered. 

“Come on,” Sam laughed, nudging Steve toward the door with a hand on his lower back. “Nat’s only patient when she wants to be, probably not a good idea to keep her waiting.”

When they drew even with the door, Amelia’s cheeky grin softened, and she turned and led the way back to where the loud clamour of laughter and conversation carried down the hall. 

“Hey Amelia,” Steve said before she could enter the lounge area and get lost to the masses. “Later this week we’re going to have a meeting to go over the Center’s books and budget and get a feel for how we want to go forward here. Improvements and such. I’d like you to be there.”

“Oh,” she blinked, surprise evident. “Really?”

“I’ll make sure to have all the fun official paperwork ready for you, too. Bring you on officially,” Steve smiled. “If that’s still what you want?”

“Yes!” She blurted. “I-Yes, I still want that.” 

“Good,” Steve said. “C’mon, before Nat decides our time’s up.”

“Pretty sure your time was up when she sent me to get you,” Amelia teased. 

“No, if our time was up,  _ Nat _ would have come and got us,” Steve countered. “Sorry, Amelia, but Nat will always be infinitely more terrifying than you are.”

“I’ll ask her to help me brush up on my skills,” Amelia grinned.

* * *

* * *

Steve had been entirely correct in his assumption that the coming weeks were going to be challenging.

That day in his office with Sam, Nat, and Bucky had been the first step of what turned into a very painful process. While Bucky had  _ mostly _ held his opinions to himself during that first peek inside the Center’s finances and the way Steve had been running things from the beginning, he apparently hadn’t seen the need to continue to do so when the four of them plus Amelia truly dove into it. Steve supposed that he couldn’t be too surprised when the coarse commentary finally got to be too much.

“Bucky, that’s enough,” Steve said firmly. “I get it. You think I’ve been fucking up this entire time. But you weren’t here. I did this on my own for  _ years, _ Bucky. And never once have I tried to blame you for that. But I did the best that I could with what I had. If you’re going to keep it up, you’re welcome to leave.”

It didn’t stop Bucky entirely, but there was a marketed difference in the frequency of the harsh criticism. Like Sam had said though, it didn’t have to be an overnight change as long as there was some continued improvement. Steve would take what he could get. 

Tony had come through with the background research for the various donors to the Center in short order. Once they had that in hand, it was relatively simple to work through the funds that were safe and which were best left untouched or returned with a politely worded email that Natasha helped compose. 

The new budget wasn’t quite as snug as what Steve was used to working with, and he could admit that it made him more than a little nervous. Despite his anxieties, Steve could admit that the new ideas taking shape throughout the Center were thrilling. 

Somewhere along the line, he began to regain his confidence and his ability to trust in his own judgment. He also began trusting that it was safe to let in the ones he’d always trusted, to confide in and rely on them the way Bucky, Nat, Sam--not to mention the kids--had been hoping for.

The best part, though? Perhaps it was selfish, but the best part of things at the Center settling and falling into place had absolutely nothing to do with the Center and everything to do with Sam. They had been taking things slowly, and Steve knew that he was the main reason for that. The stress of the sudden changes at the Center, his own guilt and regret over their argument--no matter how many times Sam assured him that it was water under the bridge, the guilt still clung tight--and finally taking the time to put some serious attention to his health--particularly his heart--had Steve thinking and acting far more cautiously than he otherwise might. Especially where the newness of the relationship was concerned. He knew that the pace was a little beyond ‘normal’ expectancy, but it didn’t seem to bother Sam in the least. Steve wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to properly articulate how grateful he was for the show of understanding.

Bucky had attempted to tease him about the slow pace. Steve hadn’t been able to even  _ attempt  _ to hide his amusement at the stony silence that followed when he simply asked, “Hey Buck, how’s Nat doing?”

Sam was right, it was  _ painfully  _ obvious.

None of that seemed to matter though. All concerns about doctors appointments, the Center and budgets, Nat and Bucky, and what came next paled in comparison to the solid body pressed between his and the door to the house he had inherited from his mother and shared with Bucky--thankfully Bucky had assured Steve that he would be gone for the night. There was something incredibly exciting about having Sam crowded between the solid surface and his own body, lips against his and feeling all the more assertive and confident and, frankly,  _ loved _ for it.

He didn’t know what it was. If it was the way that Sam was all but melting against him as he pressed forward for more--hands rising to eagerly but gently frame Sam’s face, and Sam’s fingers gripping his belt loops to tug him all the more tight against him. Or the way that the dozen or so dates over the past two months preceding this one had gone as seamlessly and spectacularly as the first not-date to the diner had. When his tongue darted across Sam’s full lips and they parted enough for him to delve in, Steve found that he really didn’t care what the precursor might have been, or what recent events had led them to this point.

For seemingly the first time in his life, his smaller stature didn’t matter--to him or to anyone else who mattered. It definitely didn’t seem to matter as Sam nudged away from the door and Steve slowly led the way to his bedroom, reluctant as he was to tear away from the taste and the feel of Sam’s lips against his. He had no doubt that Bucky would have something smart to say about the scattering of clothing that led the way to Steve’s bedroom come morning, if they weren’t up in time to clean up after themselves, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. Bucky could talk all he wanted, but he wasn’t going to take this away.

It was only the fact that he had lived in the same house since he was a toddler that gave Steve the spatial awareness to lay his hands flat against Sam’s chest--which he very much wanted to take the time to explore and properly worship--and push at just the right moment to send him sprawling back against Steve’s bed. Steve didn’t immediately follow, barely gathering the focus to withdraw his hold on the man in order to have the opportunity to take in the sight of Sam Wilson laying, braced back against his elbows and knees bent over the edge of the mattress, smiling up at him. 

Dear gods he was gorgeous. Steve had known that Sam was physically attractive from day one, and he had little doubt that Sam had heard such comments, directly or in passing, at the very least from the fans of his alter ego and from just being himself. That Sam was also a genuinely  _ good _ man only made him that much more attractive as far as Steve was concerned. Sam was the sort of man that most men and women of New York would count themselves exceedingly lucky to find in this particular scenario. And yet, somehow, someway, it was  _ his  _ bed,  _ his  _ home, and  _ his  _ life that Sam seemed content to make himself comfortable in. 

Steve had never considered himself a particularly lucky man, but he had to admit that he was most definitely feeling it just then. 

He was quickly drawn from his admiration when Sam reached one hand out for him with a grin even as he scooted more fully up onto the bed. “C’mon, Steve,” he teased. “Unless you got me all the way here just to look.”

Steve cocked his head to the side with a small smirk, letting his eyes wander freely over Sam’s exposed form. “And what if I did?”

Sam shrugged and relaxed comfortably down onto Steve’s pillow, “Fine by me, but touching is usually better than just looking. More fun that way.”

“You make a good point,” Steve said with a grin, shedding the last of his own clothing before climbing onto the bed and crawling forward. 

“I do that sometimes,” Sam quipped back, folding his legs up as Steve drew near, and smiling heatedly when Steve followed the unspoken direction and settled on his knees between them. They were both smiling when Steve stretched out over him, planting his hands on either side of Sam’s head and ducking in for another kiss. Steve tried, and failed, to force back the automatic groan at the sensation of being pressed so fully against Sam, but couldn’t help the pleasure he felt at the echoing one from Sam. 

“Just sometimes, huh?” Steve teased against his lips, arching slightly into the touch as Sam’s warm hands trailed up his sides and down over his back. Steve didn’t have the patience to give Sam the opportunity to respond to the teasing, delving in again with a firm kiss and reveling in the feel of Sam’s tongue curling against his own. He braced himself with one hand, letting the other move similarly. Cupping Sam’s jaw first, his thumb tracing through the coarse facial hair, before sliding down his neck to the strong, broad shoulders that he had spent  _ months _ admiring, and then tracing curious fingertips over his chest and torso. The solid warmth of the skin and muscle beneath his fingers and the feel of Sam’s lips and tongue against his own were more than enough to send Steve’s mind into an almost dizzy haze that he was fairly positive had nothing to do with his heart.

Steve withdrew just far enough to nip at Sam’s bottom lip, tugging teasingly as he automatically rocked his hips forward where they were pressed together so deliciously. Encouraged by the low groan and the way Sam’s hands tightened reflexively, he didn’t bother trying to hide the way he smiled into the kiss as he dove back in. There was a pressing urge to follow the explorative touch of his hand with his mouth, to learn the taste and feel of all of Sam.

He broke the kiss when the need for air made it a necessity, only to immediately give into the desire to kiss and lick and nip a trail down Sam’s neck. For whatever reason, his sharp nip to Sam’s collar bone seemed to rekindle the urgency that had them scrambling at each other’s clothing on the way to Steve’s bedroom. While he was both determined and content to take his time -- to do this  _ properly  _ \-- the simmering urgency that was radiating between them made that an admittedly difficult goal to keep.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, breathless but serious, nudging Steve just far enough away to speak clearly. “This isn’t going to make things worse for you?”

“Doc’s pretty happy with the way the new meds are working,” Steve reassured him with a small smile. “I’ll let you know if that changes, promise.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Sam insisted. Steve silenced any further conversation with another kiss.

They were both well past breathlessly urgent and nearing the realm of being completely unwound as Steve felt Sam’s body begin to give and open around his fingers. The sounds that Sam was making and the warm, firm grip of Sam’s hand as he quickly but carefully rolled the condom down Steve’s length were almost more than he could handle at one time. Steve could admit that it had been a  _ while _ since he had done more than quickly taking care of himself in the shower or before bed. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he was going to be able to last, but there was no way he was going to give up the opportunity to try anyway.

It turned out that his body was perfectly capable of letting him have this, even if only on the solidly ‘good’ days. Steve was trying to be more cognizant of his own limitations, and he knew that exploring this new aspect of their relationship would have to be done carefully. But that was a concern and a discussion for later. In this particular moment, Steve was more than pleased to let his attention focus on the feeling of Sam’s body around and beneath him, and the touch and taste of Sam’s lips and tongue against his own. 

Later, Steve was settled and tucked against the long length of Sam’s side with his head resting on his chest and the wonderful weight of Sam’s arm curled around him, the previous fevered urgency having eased into the warm, contented comfort that he had quickly learned to love about the developing relationship. His mind was pleasantly quiet as his fingertips traced idle patterns over Sam’s torso until Sam huffed a soft laugh and caught Steve’s hand in his own, stilling the movement and lacing their fingers together.

“Ticklish?” Steve asked curiously, feeling a small smile tug at his lips at the new knowledge.

“Nope,” Sam said immediately and unconvincingly.

“Good to know,” Steve grinned. It was the little things like ticklishness that Steve thought might be his favorite sort of discovery. The things that weren’t immediately noticeable, or even particularly significant other than for the simple fact that it was something about Sam that he hadn’t known just a few minutes before. Then again, it was something about Sam, and that alone made it more than a little bit significant and worth every ounce of attention that he could possibly give. 

It might have taken them nearly a year to get to this point of learning and comfort, and they might have taken the long way around. Between Steve’s overprotectiveness and preoccupation with the Center, his health struggles, and all around lack of confidence for the majority of the last year, there had been plenty of hurdles. Plenty of opportunities where Sam very well could have--and maybe even  _ should have _ \--stepped back and kept the relationship as something strictly friendly the way he did with Nat and Bucky. 

Steve wasn’t entirely sure that he understood why Sam hadn’t, but he didn’t think that he was quite so self-sacrificing as to question it now. While he still often felt the sting of guilt and embarrassment and vulnerability when the topics of his health and finances came up and inadequacy in the face of Sam’s very obvious affection, in that particular moment as he snuggled ever so slightly closer into Sam, none of that mattered. 

He had just begun to feel the tug of sleep, and Sam’s steady breathing had slowed and deepened where Steve knew he was feeling the same, when the sound of the front door of the house slamming closed reached the bedroom. Steve didn’t bother moving or pulling away from the edges of sleep, knowing that the noise was undoubtedly Bucky returning home. He had almost slipped to sleep when another sound drew his attention. 

Two sets of loud thuds hit the floor just on the other side of his bedroom door, followed immediately by a much softer sound and Bucky’s muffled muttering. Steve frowned in confusion for a brief moment, only to snort in amusement when realization dawned. Sam made a curious, questioning sound, and Steve smirked, “Our-uh-clothes.”

“Suppose we ought to apologize come morning, huh?” Sam asked, his own amusement evident in his voice.

“Nah,” Steve disagreed, reaching to tug the blankets a little higher and then resettling more comfortably against Sam. He tilted his head just enough to press a kiss to Sam’s chest before settling in fully with a sigh. “Night, Sam,” he said through a yawn. 

As sleep regained its hold, Steve’s mind wandered. Slow and easy but undoubtedly sure in a way that he so rarely was. Life, he thought, wasn’t suddenly and magically perfect. 

There were still finances and budgets to balance and juggle. Health issues that made even the idea of getting out of bed feel overwhelmingly daunting some mornings. He still had crushing anxiety and self-doubt and an angry-wet-cat mode at times. 

The nature of Sam’s job meant that he was inevitably going to be taking off to unknown corners of the globe and facing dangerous situations. Steve knew that he would worry every time. That he would watch anxiously but proudly when there was coverage, and wait for word that Sam was okay as patiently as a guy like him was capable of when there wasn’t. 

He knew that it was exceedingly unlikely that their previous argument would be their only one, and that there was a high chance that his own stubbornness would again be the cause. 

It wasn’t all perfect, but Steve kind of thought that life didn’t have to be perfect as long as there were perfect moments like these in it to make some of the bad moments more bearable.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hello on Tumblr! I'm there as alwaysabrighterdarkness.


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